Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yoriko’s favorite food was cheesecake.

She’d folded her arms and pouted the first time her mother had given her some, because she was six and it had the word “cheese” in it. She hated cheese all by itself, so why would she want a whole cake of it? But her mother had started a lecture about how much time she’d put into making the cake just for her (and damn it learn to appreciate your mother, little brat) so she’d finally huffed and stuck a bite in her mouth. Her eyes had widened. Her mother had caught on to the change before she could hide it.

“See?” her mother said, “That’s why you listen when your mother tells you to do something.”

Cheesecake became more than a nice treat. It became a thousand different days where her mother would sit with her in the kitchen instead of plopping on her bed to nap after yet another long day of work. It became the peals of laughter ringing off the tile of the kitchen. It became the playful eye-roll her little sister would give her whenever Yoriko would offer to make it. So of course, it was the first dessert she ever gave to Touka.

“Here,” she said. “You said you never tried it before, so I made some last night.”

She could still remember the way Touka’s eyes widened like a deer’s. Helpless. Unsure. A little pained. Touka’s face was constantly sullen and guarded, but then came moments like these. Moments when Yoriko would give her a gift she’d bought for her on a whim, or insist right in Touka’s face that she was pretty, or make extra lunch for her. Then Touka would make that face, the one that looked like she as waiting for it all to be a trick. Like she could never believe that someone would do something nice to her without it being a front. Like she was waiting for someone to throw rocks at her.

“You didn’t have to go that far.” Touka shifted her eyes down nervously, putting a hand to the back of her head and letting out an awkward laugh.

“I wanted to,” Yoriko said, still holding the container out, waiting for Touka to take it. She didn’t move her eyes, but waited for her friend to meet her gaze. “It’s important for people to eat together. Eating with each other binds people together, you know? That’s what my dad used to say.”

It took a while for Touka to bring her head back up. Her one visible eye glistened from beneath a few strands of messy hair. Then, she smiled. It was a smile that gently flipped everything Yoriko had ever known about herself upside down, because it made her heart pound and her head spin and—

Oh no. I like her. I like her a lot.

Rize Kamishiro. How to describe her?

She was a magnet to Yoriko’s eyes. The moment she had entered Anteiku, everything else had just stopped existing for a moment. There was only a giant black hole of a universe, with the gorgeous woman at the center and Yoriko slowly being pulled in.

So she looked. Of course she looked. And that was amazing in itself, because if there was anything Yoriko had learned it was how not to look, how to act like she didn’t burn from the quick glances she gave to certain passing figures. There was a ratio of “amount of times normal girls looked at other girls” to “amount of times Yoriko looked at other girls” that she had to keep as even as possible.

She had never been interested in boys, and had always found herself stumbling to make up what her ideal boyfriend would be like when girls in primary school asked her. Ever since that one little smile made her realize why, Yoriko’s life had turned into one big balancing game. Or more like a game of hide and seek where the goal was to never be found. She had made quiet little rules for the game: never look more than a few seconds, figure out which idol singers to “like” before anyone asked, etc.

Rize made her forget them.

But of course, Yoriko didn’t know her name at first. She had just been chatting with Touka as much as she could while her friend was on the job (“All these ghoul killings recently are really scary, aren’t they?” “Hmm I guess”) when the door had opened. First, she was just a swirl of lovely hair and the sound of clacking heels against the café floor. Then, she met Yoriko’s gaze for a moment, and she was a heart attack.

How is it possible for someone to be so beautiful?

And then, she was gone as soon as she came, leaving Yoriko to ask, “Touka, who was that lady?”

Her friend’s face tightened just a little. “No one.”

Yoriko laughed. “She can’t be no one. What was the name you wrote on her cup?”

Touka pursed her lips. “Rize.”

“Does she come here often?”

“Dunno. Don’t really pay attention. Why do you care?”

Yoriko immediately remembered herself. Touka’s face had hardened at her and it made Yoriko afraid. She looked away. “She just seemed like an interesting person, you know?”

It wasn’t the last time she’d see Rize, and it wasn’t the last time she’d look at her. And why not? It was nice to indulge in a little looking. After all, it kept her from ogling her best friend.

So perhaps she went back to Anteiku just to see if she’d get another glimpse of the mysterious woman. She wasn’t stalking. She was just… curious. There was no trouble with only looking from a distance, right? So her visits to café increased until it was almost a regular part of her routine.

More importantly, she made a point of asking Touka what times she worked there, and visiting only during the hours that she’d be gone. Because after all, it wouldn’t do for her best friend to catch on to the fact that she’d made Anteiku a part of her routine solely to sneak glances at another woman.

She didn’t expect anything to come of it. It was all hopeless, hopeless as the stubborn flickers she’d felt before. It was just a harmless way for her to fuel her own fantasies so that her eyes didn’t turn to someone closer. Again.

So when she left the café one day only to find the woman waiting for her on the sidewalk outside, she almost tripped.

“Hello.” Her voice was so musical, so gentle. “I’ve seen you around quite a bit.”

Yoriko's heart hammered. “O-oh? Have you? I mean, that is, uh, besides in the c-coffee shop. Where I’ve seen you.”

“Just in Anteiku, dear,” Rize laughed. “I thought it’d be a shame if I never learned the name of the pretty face who sits in the corner every Thursday.”

Pretty… Yoriko felt her cheeks heat up until she thought her head would explode with hot steam. “I, um, I—you want my…?”

Suddenly, their arms were linked and Rize was laughing beautifully. “Oh, you’re so adorable! Will you call me Rize?”

Yoriko went home with a new number saved on her phone, shaky knees, a date—a real, planned date with a beautiful woman—and a smile that wouldn’t leave her face.

If only it had lasted.

“I noticed you… noticing me.”

She wanted to wither and die—she had been so, so stupid. A beautiful woman like Rize being interested in her—a dumpy, pudgy high school girl—for no ulterior motive? Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she have ever—?

Pain. Blood.

“I’m going to rearrange your insides—”

Rize. Ghoul. Pain. Harsh metal against her head.

“I love humans with your body type. You have just the right amount of fat—”

Salt. Tears. Stupid. Pain. Dead. I’m dead. Mom. Dad. Sumiko. Touka…

“Huh? Are you dead already?”

Touka… I’ll never get to see…

Everything went black.

Air… air… need air…

Everything hurt. She couldn’t move. She started to remember. Rize. The ghoul. The numbing horror of watching her own blood spill over her clothes, and feeling it trickle from between her lips. Her own stupidity—disgusting, disgusting. This had to be some sort of punishment for daring to—for believing that—

She sobbed into her oxygen mask, gasps sucking in as much air as she could. Then, she was drifting away. Too lightheaded to think about any of it. Too lightheaded to feel anything but dull, faraway misery. Eventually, her breathing slowed and the last few tears had dripped down her face. She blacked out, and dreamed of Rize laughing at her, of the curve of her back and her shining eyes and the blood dripping down her chin.

In the background, there were voices saying something about an organ transplant.

The shout was muffled through the door.

“Why the fuck can’t I see her now?! What do you think I’m gonna do, kick her or something?! I’m not gonna wake her up, I just want to… just…”

Yoriko eyes opened heavily. She knew that voice. She might have smiled any other time, but instead all she could do was feel her tears well up again. If only she could call out, tell them she was awake and that god she needed to see her best friend right now.

Instead, she heard footsteps stomping down the hallway. The sound of her heart monitor and the buzzing of machines didn’t quite fill the emptiness. Yoriko’s eyes fell shut again.

Her left eye felt funny. Strange. She didn’t think it had been injured or anything.

She was discharged from the hospital much too soon for someone who’d had an organ transplant, but she didn’t think about that. All she could think about was her mother’s grip around her, squeezing her so she could barely breathe. She was released only for her mother to grip her shoulders painfully.

“Yoriko, look at me.” Her mother continued only when she obeyed. “I told you to never stay out after seven. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

She looked away, grabbing the folds of her clothing nervously. She turned to look at her sister for a moment, but Sumiko’s eyes were lowered the way they always were in public. She wouldn’t get any help on this one. “I’m not a kid, mom,” she muttered.

Suddenly she was being shaken. “Don’t give me that!” her mother yelled. “You almost died! How many times have I told you it’s not safe? There are robbers, murderers, ghouls, rapists…”

“Mom,” Sumiko muttered, “People will start to look.”

Yoriko gulped and looked around. They were just outside the hospital, in public, but that had never stopped Mrs. Kosaka. “Let them look. You think I care? Let them hear. Maybe they’ll be smarter than me and make sure their children listen.”

Yoriko would have been mortified, but then her mother was sniffling. “I’m so sorry,” she croaked, hugging back tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m horrible.”

At that, she saw Sumiko’s eyes flash to her to a minute before looking down again. Her mother squeezed her tighter. “Yes you are,” her mother choked out. “Do you realize how hard it’s been for me these past few days? Do you want your poor mother to keel over from a heart attack?”

“I’m sorry,” was all she could say.

“It’s alright. We’re going to go home now, and everything will be fine.” Her mother let her go, wiping the tears off her own face.

“Finally,” Sumiko breathed. Mrs. Kosaka ignored her.

In the car, Yoriko leaned her cheek against the window and closed her eyes. She thought of Rize, of blood, of black and red eyes staring her down, of long red tentacles. She realized that she hadn’t told anyone. No one knew that Rize was a ghoul. No one knew that Yoriko… that the only reason she was with Rize that night was because…

She swallowed. Suddenly, an ocean's worth of pressure was on her from all sides. Everything had changed but all the worst things had remained the same. Before she could think her fingers had pulled out her phone and sent a text.

I just got out of the hospital.

And then another:

I know you tried to visit once. I wish I had seen you there. Can we talk?

When she got home, there was cheesecake waiting on the table. Homemade, just the way her mother hadn’t made it in years. Yoriko tried to smile. She really did. It was her favorite food. She was touched that her mother took this time out of her strict schedule to do this for her. It was just so, so hard to smile at anything. She gulped down a sudden lump in her throat, hoping her mother didn’t notice.

Grateful. I'm grateful for this.

“Thank you so much, mom!”

Another hug. For some reason, her mother’s perfume seemed really strong. “Eat as much as you want, dear. Today you get a free pass.”

She sat down, and tasted mashed worm with an aftertaste of vomit. Her eyes welled with tears at the foulness. She promptly spit it out on the table in shock, gagging for a moment because some of the vile stuff made it down her throat and it burned. It takes her a moment to look up and see her mother’s expression. Surprise. Hurt. Annoyance. Then, anger. The room spun in her eyes, and for a moment she could have sworn she heard Rize’s bell-like laughter ringing in her ears.

Yoriko’s favorite food was cheesecake. Or at least, it used to be.

Chapter Text

Sumiko sat down next to Yoriko on the bed. Even with her eyes closed and burning with exhaustion, Yoriko knew it had to be her.

“Hey, Sumi.”

“Hey.”

Complete silence, besides the sound of her little sister breathing steadily. Yoriko opened her eyes, and looked down to see her staring at the floor. She waited.

This was something Sumiko would do. She’d suddenly pop into Yoriko’s room, sit quietly and only give testy one word answers if asked anything. Sometimes, after the long silence, she’d start talking about something she’d read online. Sometimes, she’d ask to play a game. Sometimes she’d read by herself. Sometimes she wouldn’t do anything but sit there, getting up and leaving with a frown after an hour of nothing. The silence didn’t last longer than five minutes this time.

“Is it a medication thing?”

Yoriko blinked. “Is what a medication thing?”

“The throwing up.”

Yoriko’s sighed. “Sorry about that.”

She had made her own welcome home party a disaster. All of her favorite foods: wasted. She’d ruined the tablecloth, the nice one they always used for special occasions. Her mother had gotten an extra day off work for this and she had to spend it cleaning up her mess before collapsing on the sofa in exhaustion.

“That’s not an answer,” Sumiko complained.

“Oh. Well I… it’s a temporary thing, is what it is. Okay?”

Another silence. “Mom wouldn’t let that girl with weird hair visit you in the hospital.”

“What?”

“Touka, right? Mom told all the doctors that Touka wasn’t allowed to visit, so they kept her out.” Her little sister shrugged. “I just thought you should know.”

Sumiko left, and Yoriko let herself sink into her mattress and cover her face with a pillow.

In the morning, she woke up to the sound of knocking against her window. She closed her eyes again and shuffled into her blankets. The noise continued, louder and faster, until she rolled over and looked out the window.

Touka was smiling at her through the glass. It would have been cute if Yoriko’s room wasn’t on the second story.

She jumped out of bed so quickly that she tangled in and tripped over her own sheets. Her head slammed against the carpet. She heard glass-muffled laughter and shot her head up. Touka was leaning her forehead against the glass, shaking with giggles.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, scrambling up and making it to the window. Her fingers pried at the window. “What are you even doing up here?”

Touka said something, but Yoriko couldn’t really make it out. It sounded like, “Open up and I’ll tell you” but she couldn’t be sure. Either way, she tried, but the window just wouldn’t budge.

“What are you even standing on?” she mumbled, more to herself than Touka. She took a quick peek out the window and saw that her friend, in fact, wasn’t standing on anything but was clinging to the edge of the window for dear life. Yoriko’s eyes shot up.

“Oh my god,” she squeaked, “You idiot!”

She wondered how Touka could hang on like that—no, how had she even gotten there in the first place? But she was looking right into Touka’s eyes through the glass, and their faces weren’t more than three inches apart. Silly things like logic and questions flew out of her head. Touka’s smile slowly faded into a somber, concerned expression.

They stared at each other like that for about three seconds before Touka slipped. Yoriko jumped, covering her mouth.

“Oh—oh god!”

She bolted down the stairs and out the door. Her friend rolled out of a bush beneath the window.

“Touka! Touka!”

Touka groaned, rising to her knees before Yoriko could reach her. “Oww,” she groaned, rubbing her neck.

Yoriko reached out to grab her, to pull her up and help her and touch her—but she remembered herself and pulled her hand back. Instead, she kneeled down with her and looked in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” The blue haired girl grinned and rolled her head around her neck. She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, frowning. She narrowed her eyes and—much to Yoriko’s surprise—sniffed the air.

“That smell…” she muttered.

“Huh?” Yoriko blinked. Then, horrified, she jumped away. Her face flushed. “I’m sorry, I thought I showered last night.”

“Eh? That’s not what I meant!” Touka waved her hands rapidly. “You smell very go—I mean, not that I—you don’t smell bad, okay? It was the… the weird plants here. They smell strange. Yeah.”

Touka grabbed her head and groaned. The action reminded Yoriko that there were more pressing matters at hand than what she smelled like. “Oh my—Touka did you hit your head? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. My head didn’t hit anything.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should call the hospital…”

“No! No,” Touka said quickly. “The bush broke my fall. I’m fine. See?”

She hopped, springy as a rabbit, and started to rotate her joints.

“Perfectly fine. No pain at all.”

“You’re sure? How many fingers am I holding up then?”

Touka rolled her eyes. “Three. And my name is Touka Kirishima. I’m a highschool student, and I don’t have a concussion. Am I lucid enough to convince you?”

Yoriko sighed, doubling over and resting her hands on her knees.

“Don’t scare me like that,” she said, “You could have hurt yourself, climbing up a house like that! What if there hadn’t been any bushes?”

The other girl shrugged.

“Why did you even…?” climb up to my window instead of coming to the front door? Yoriko didn’t finish the question. She remembered what Sumiko had said, and knew the answer.

“Never mind. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to-” Touka started, only to stop. “I wanted to walk you to school. But I got a better idea.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s skip.”

The sky was cloudy, with cracks of blue throughout it. The air sent goosebumps up Yoriko’s arms. Chilly. Not too cold but enough that she wished she’d brought a jacket. She looked up, and saw sunlight streaking through an illuminated cloud. It wasn’t not the best day to go out, but Touka walked right beside her and she could feel a little warmth in her heart underneath the chill.

They shuffled around the stores awkwardly. In the past, whenever they’d gone window shopping Yoriko would excitedly pull Touka along to this shop and that. Now, she walked about aimlessly, so Touka led the way, marching on with all the purpose and determination of a soldier, shoulders squared and chest high.

She dragged her to a jewelry shop first.

“You like that bracelet?”

Yoriko had been staring, and the direction happened to be in that of a chain bracelet. Her eyes focused, and she took it off the shelf to get a better look, nodding.

“Um, it’s nice.”

“Great. I’m buying it for you.”

“What?! No, you can’t do that!”

Touka grinned. “Try and stop me!”

“No, I mean—I mean I don’t like it that much!”

A few moments of half grappling each other in the store later, she had stopped Touka from spending her hard-earned money on something so frivolous. Touka wasn’t like Yoriko—she didn’t have a parent with her all the time and had to work for everything, so Yoriko would be damned before she let her spend that money on her.

The next store was a pet shop.

“Pet shop, it says. You like little animals, right?”

“Well…”

“Okay, good, good, we’re going in.”

Before Yoriko could object, Touka had yanked her in by the arm. She got a puppy dumped in her arms just as abruptly.

“See? It’s cute, right? You said you like dogs, so…”

Yoriko squinted at the little thing. It licked her. She couldn’t stop her smiles as the bundle squirmed in her arms and started to attack her with more licks. Eventually, she started laughing. In the reflection of the shop window, right when Touka thought she wasn’t looking at her, she could see Touka’s warm smile twist into something a little sadder, and more pained. The face vanished almost as quickly as it appeared though, smoothed out by a relieved sigh.

They walked around after. Yoriko breathed as though the air around her was finally clearing. Her heart lifted. She put on a smile as though trying it out. It felt more natural now than what she’d been trying for last night. She couldn’t be blissfully happy—not yet, not after the disaster that had happened with Rize. The idea of feeling as happy as she did on that date terrified her a little. She wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t come crashing down on her again. Still, the outing was nice. Watching Touka try to be interested in shopping was nice. Being with Touka was nice.

It would have been better, though, if she hadn’t noticed the way her friend would scrunch up her nose every now and then and make little upset frown.

They sat on the side of a fountain when they ran out of places to go. Touka skimmed her hands along surface. Yoriko watched those hands, bony, hard-working fingers disrupting the ripples of the fountain.

“Hey, Yoriko… can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What kind of… person do you like?”

It took a moment for Yoriko to realize what Touka was asking. “You mean… like who I’d want to date?”

Touka nodded quietly.

“Um… why do you ask?”

The other girl shrugged. “Girls ask each other that sort of thing, right? I just realized I never asked you.”

Yoriko had asked Touka that question once, not very long after they’d become friends. (“I’d like a guy with muscles, definitely. A guy with a lot of different practical skills who’s not afraid to do dirty work. But polite. Good with kids. Not one of those fuckers that yell at girls across the street.”) She smiled at the memory. It wasn’t a smile that reached her eyes.

She wanted to smack herself. It was really unfair for her to feel this way. Her feelings for Touka (besides friendship) couldn’t be that deep considering how easily her lust for Rize had distracted her, but she still felt hurt anyway because she was just that selfish. She swallowed imperceptibly and answered the question.

“Well, I’d like—”

Y ou.

“—someone with a good heart. Someone gentle. Even if they don’t show it immediately…”

You.

“I mean, I don’t really have a preference for what they’d look like—”

Curves. Elegant features. Soft hair. Beautiful eyes with long eyelashes. Like yours.

“—to be honest it’s not something I’ve thought much about. So I’m open to falling in love with any sort of person I guess.” Rize flashed through her head for a moment, and she grimaced. “Well, I mean, as long as the person wasn’t secretly a ghoul or anything.”

Touka’s head was turned away, staring down at her muddled reflection. From the angle Yoriko looked at her from, her hair covered most of her face, leaving only a bit of cheek and lips showing.

“Huh,” the blue-haired girl mumbled. “I guess… that makes sense.”

Yoriko tried to fill up the silence with an awkward laugh. “I guess my self-preservation instincts are flaring up after just getting out of the hospital. I don’t want to get eate—Touka?”

Her friend had stood up right in the middle of her sentence, suddenly turning to tower over her.

“Hey, can I ask you one more thing?”

“Um, sure?”

“Stay away from Rize.”

Yoriko’s mouth dropped open. She doesn’t know?

“I heard some really bad rumors about her at the coffee shop. She’s not a good person to hang around.”

“But Rize’s—”

“Just trust me on this one, okay? Anyway, it’s getting late. I need to get to Anteiku for my shift.”

Yoriko nodded, and stood up, deciding not to ask why Touka brought up Rize out of the blue like that, or how she knew enough to tell her to stay away.

They walked most of the way to her house, until Touka had to go an opposite direction to get to Anteiku. Then, Yoriko felt herself pulled into an awkward hug.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Touka said, before running off.

She found the chain bracelet from the jewelry store in her pocket once she got home. She didn’t know whether to smile and laugh or huff indignantly and send her friend a text on how she should spend her money on herself. Touka was an amazing friend. Really, it was shameful for Yoriko to want more from her.

...Neither she nor Touka had eaten all day, but that wouldn’t occur to her until much later...

“Come on,” she told herself under her breath.

It was her mother’s cooking. She loved her mother’s cooking. So why was it so hard to put it in her mouth?

“Is something the matter, dear?” Her mother looked really worried. “Your hand is shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

She could get by at breakfast by deliberately staying later in bed than she normally did, making Sumiko’s breakfast, then grabbing toast on her way out because she would be late if she stayed to eat. Then, she’d throw it out on the way to school. Of course, her mother was never home in the morning so that was mainly to make sure Sumiko didn’t worry. Lunch was easy: She’d bring a homemade meal for Touka, as always, and just excused herself by saying that she’d eaten a late breakfast and had kind of lost her appetite after her hospital stay. Touka never thought anything was up.

Dinner was a problem, though only when mother was home. Her mother always wanted them to eat together. Sumiko hated it, but if she complained all her mother would have to say was, “Eating with each other binds people together. And as a family, we need that.”

Yoriko would then swallow the dinner whole and throw up outside where neither Sumiko nor mother would hear. She didn't know what made her hide it. Maybe she didn't want to bother them, especially her mother who sighed with every new responsibility she had to attend to.

This time, though, she did something wrong. She chewed one bite a little too much and the foulness overwhelmed her. She vomited what she’d already swallowed, though she had the tact to do it on the floor instead of the table this time. When she looked up, Sumiko and her mother were both staring.

“I’m sorry…” she cried, choking back a sob. “I’m sorry… I did it again. It just… it doesn’t…”

She bit her lip. Her mother stood up. Yoriko felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetie,” her mother said.

“I just… nothing has tasted right since then,” she mumbled, clutching the table. “I keep throwing up.”

“Ghouls throw up human food all the time, you know.”

Yoriko snapped her head up to look at her sister, alarm bells ringing in her head. “What?”

Sumiko nodded. “I read about it in a book. It tastes really bad to them, so they can only eat humans. The book said—”

“Sumiko, that’s not relevant right now,” Mrs. Kosaka said harshly, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring up disgusting things at the dinner table.”

Her sister lowered her head.

“Anyway, dear, let’s get you cleaned up and up to bed. Don’t worry about the mess. Just tell me if you need anything, okay? I’m here tonight.”

Yoriko nodded, barely stopping herself from crying. Soon her mother had gotten her to bed, and she’d passed out. As she went to sleep, she could hear her mother on the phone right outside her bedroom door, scheduling a doctor’s appointment for the next weekend.

Her last thought was to wonder why she hadn’t felt hungry for so long.

It had been so long since she’d really eaten anything, so she wasn’t surprised when she woke up a few days before the appointment with a painful, gnawing hunger in her stomach. She turned to see her clock. 5:00 A.M. in the morning, but she was too hungry to go back to sleep.

She went downstairs, to try and find something that might not be so horrible to put in her stomach. It failed. She tried to keep the meal down but felt so sick and dizzy from it she could have sworn it was poisoned. It ended up in the toilet.

Her hunger grew the rest of the day. For some reason, she kept thinking she was smelling something delicious, but couldn’t see food anywhere. Still, her mouth started to water, almost to the point where she thought she’d start drooling when she spoke in class. Touka was gone, too, so she had nothing to distract herself with.

She got home, made dinner for Sumiko since mother was working the night shift, and went to her room.

Her sister came in quietly and sat down on the floor. She’d brought a book this time, something Yoriko recognized as being assigned in the middle school literature class.

“Hey, Sumi.”

Sumiko nodded. “It’s a short story collection,” she said.

And that was all before she buried her face in the pages and went dead silent. Yoriko knew better than to interrupt when her little sister was focusing on something, so she didn’t try to ask questions about the story she’d been assigned. Except…

Except Yoriko found herself inhaling a sweet scent, something so delicious that her mouth watered again and her stomach flared, screaming for food. Her eyes turned toward her little sister. Sumiko was wearing shorts, leaving her legs bare so that Yoriko could make out just the amount of muscle and fat on them. Her sister despised sports and physical activity, so her legs were round with fat without being too pudgy.

“They’d be soft and juicy then, easy to bite through and with that richness that steak cooked it its own fat has to offer. Smell that. I bet she’s delicious.”

Yoriko felt a smile pulling at her face. “Mm-hm,” she mumbled. Then, her eyes widened and she covered her mouth.

“Young meat is always the best,” Rize continued. “Just like how lamb meat is tastier than that of a grown sheep. Really, it’d be a shame to not try a little taste.”

She lurched, still covering her mouth. Suddenly she was imagining the taste of live meat tearing under her teeth. She could see herself slurping up blood from the bite and—

“Yori? Are you okay? Please don’t tell me you’re having a seizure or something.”

Sumiko’s eyes were wide as she pulled on the sleeve of Yoriko’s shirt. Her sister’s face brought her back to her senses.

“F-fine,” she tried to smile. Instead, she felt drool trickling down her chin. She covered her mouth again.

Oh God, what was I just-?

She bolted out of the room and into the bathroom, dousing her face in water before slamming her head firmly against the wall.

“Yoriko!” her sister called. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she whispered too quietly for her sister to hear. “I’m fine.”

“No, we’re not,” Rize whined, “I’m so hungry, but all you eat is poison and garbage. We need a real meal. How about your delicious sister? Or we could wait for that pesky mother of yours to come home.”

Yoriko felt hands around her.

“Darling, you have to eat eventually…”

Knocking. “Yori?” her sister asked from behind the door.

Yoriko shook herself. The dead woman’s hands vanished. She looked up in the mirror. Her face was sweaty and pale, but otherwise okay. She made herself smile.

“Sorry, Sumi! I’m fine.”

She opened the door and found her little sister standing there, frowning.

“You’re really okay?”

“Yeah.”

She slumped forward a little, and the scent from before hit her like a freight train. Sumiko was intoxicating. She lurched again.

“I just… need some fresh air, okay?” She ran out of the house, barely grabbing a hoodie as she went.

People. Women, men, children. Fat, skinny, muscular, short, tall, medium. Why did they smell so good all of a sudden?

She ran. It was night time, and it was past seven so she shouldn’t even be out, but she didn’t care. Her stomach screamed inside her, her head spun and for some reason she couldn’t get images of eating people out of her head. She had to run. If she got far enough, then maybe… maybe she could…

She stopped abruptly. There was something else. Another smell, just as delicious, and so strong in the air. It wasn’t just her stomach that hurt from the test this time. Every single cell in her body spiked, as though every bit of her wanted to eat. She tried to force her mind onto food. Or what was supposed to be food. Her mother making rice in the kitchen. Cheesecake.

Then, the images of crushed bones, of dripping blood, of muscle under her teeth. Eyes mashed into paste. Pale skin to rip to shreds. She drooled, feeling that somehow if she just turned this one corner then she’d—

Blood. Some severed fingers. A man standing over an unmoving woman, stabbing. There were so many gashes in her that there was no way she could be alive, but she was fresh. Fresh food. The sight suddenly made Yoriko's eye flare.

The man was yelling: “Bitch! Whore! Cheat on me, will you?!”

Yoriko stumbled forward, swaying. The smell in the air—intoxicating.

“Here’s something,” Rize purred, running her hands through Yoriko’s hair. “A murderer. It wouldn’t be so bad to eat someone like that, now, would it?”

But she’d been heard. The man stopped and turned around. She flinched, raising her hand to cover herself from the inevitable blow of the knife, only for the man to drop his knife and scream.

“Ghoul! Oh my god, it’s a ghoul!”

He sprinted away before she had the wit to catch him. She turned around, looking. “Ghoul?”

Rize laughed.

Yoriko reached a finger forward, dipping it in the pooling blood. She licked. So good. So, so good and she was so hungry that she didn’t know what was stopping her from falling on the body and ripping it to pieces.

“Let’s eat, darling.”

She looked down at the corpse. Its eyes were still open, pleading. Tears and blood stained its face. She shook her head at Rize.

“No,” she mumbled, grabbing her head. “No, no, no, I can’t. I can’t.”

“Why not? It’s already dead.”

“Because mom will find out,” Yoriko cried, not able to think of anything else to say. Her face convulsed at the thought, tears springing to her eyes. “What if she thinks I’m disgusting like a—like a gh—”

Rize took her by the hair, and pulled her around. There was a broken mirror lying in the alley amongst some other junk, intact enough for her to see her reflection clearly.

“Take a good look, litte Yori.”

She did. It was her face, all right, but one eye wasn’t her. One eye was—was—

Yoriko fell to her knees, curling in on herself. She bit down on her hand. It barely muffled the scream that tore out her throat.

M y eye… I’ve become… Oh god, Rize’s organs made me…

“Shhh, shhh…” Rize pet her. “Someone’s coming, and you wouldn’t want to be found now, would you?”

There were indeed footsteps in the distance. Yoriko scrammed and found an open door. She flung herself inside, crouching in the darkness.

“Look at this. And people say our killings are brutal.”

Yoriko had a little peephole in the form of a hole broken in the wall, so she could see out the abandoned building and into the alley. Someone crouched by the woman’s corpse.

“What was this? Some lovers’ quarrel gone wrong?”

“Dunno. Who cares anyway? The meat is fresh.”

Someone tore off a bit of the corpse, and Yoriko covered her mouth. Ghouls. Then an even more horrifying thought: Is that what I...? 

“Hey, how about we take this one? I’m getting sick of eating days-old suicide corpses all the time.”

That voice… Yoriko paused, her heart pounding. No, it couldn’t be.

“We can’t take murder corpses. They’re too messy, and it draws more suspicion when you leave blood everywhere. Especially from here. Maybe an isolated location would be okay, but here there’s too much of a chance for witnesses or just general annoyances. Trust me.”

“Well, fine.” The person crouched next to the corpse leaned forward. “I’m gonna have some. I’m hungry, and it’s been too long since I’ve had anything fresh.” The arm of the corpse was ripped off. “Gotta take the opportunity when I get it, you know?”

The person turned, giving Yoriko a clear view of their face. Yoriko's heart stopped, bile filled her throat. The only reason she didn't scream or vomit was because the pull to do both at once had her at a standstill. She bit down on her hand in shock. It bled into her mouth, but she didn't take note of the taste. Everything else had vanished: only the horror in front of her eyes remained.

“Here, Irimi, have some.”

“No thanks. I filled up last week. Help yourself, Touka.”

A sickening crunch rang through the alley, followed by the sound of teeth tearing into flesh. Yoriko watched as her friend swallowed, humming appreciatively as the blood dripped down her face.

Chapter Text

Her stomach twisted painfully. Her limbs twitched. Pain flared out through them to the tips of her fingers. Again, it was as though the hunger had spread to every part of her body. She curled up, clutching her stomach to try and ease the pain.

The alleyway. The murderer. The glassy-eyed corpse with tear-tracks shining down its cheeks. The intoxication, the overwhelming fragrance of blood and raw, torn flesh. And then—Touka. Touka.

Her left eye twinged. Every muscle in her body went taut.

No.

Touka. Touka who walked with her to class. Touka who would punch bullies. Touka with the loud laugh and the hunched shoulders and the uncertain smile. There was no way that wonderful Touka could be… could be…

Blood dripping down her face. Her fingernails ripping through the flesh like it were butter. Black and red flooding the whites of her eyes and her blue irises. Pitiless. Empty. Hungry.

No.

She trembled. Her fingers clutched the sheets on her mattress.

A dream, a dream, a dream. That’s what it was. Just a nightmare. She just had to get up, breathe, shake herself out, and smile. Then, it would all go away. Touka wasn’t a ghoul. They’d eat lunch together, she’d tell her about this awful dream and they’d laugh. Touka wasn’t a ghoul.

And I’m definitely not.

Her alarm screeched in her ear. It took her longer than it should have to switch it off. She heard her door open, and cringed, turning her head deeper into her mattress. She waited for something. Instead, she just heard some shuffling at the door, so she breathed.

“Sumi? Is that you?”

“I’m hungry,” her little sister mumbled from the doorway.

Hungry. Yes, hungry. So hungry.

“I’ll—I’ll be down in a minute, okay?” he said, her voice scratching a little in her throat.

She didn’t hear her sister’s footsteps. Which should have been fine. She should have just turned over and given Sumiko a warm smile before sliding out of bed to walk downstairs with her to the kitchen. She should have, but instead she pressed her left eye into the mattress as it throbbed again.

If it wasn’t a dream, then my eye… if Sumiko sees it…

“Hey, c-can you wait for me downstairs? I need a moment.”

She waited until she heard her door close and her sisters’ footsteps had reached the stairs. Then, she forced herself up, unconsciously clutching her eye as she did so. She slumped over to the bathroom, slowly taking her hand away from her eye.

Black where the whites of her eye should be. A shurnken, blood red iris. Dark veins trailing around her eye socket and temple. Rize’s eye.

Yoriko collapsed.

“You want me to cancel the doctor’s appointment?”

“Yes. I’m feeling better now. Everything tastes good again. See?” She stopped herself from gagging as the taste of dirt invaded her mouth. She swallowed, chills running up her arm at the awfulness of it. “It was all in my head. Anyway, it’ll just be more money to go back to the hospital.”

Please don’t send me back. They’ll figure out and they’ll take me away.

(Which made her wonder why they hadn’t figured it out in her original stay at the hospital. Maybe she hadn’t been like this then, and had slowly transformed as Rize’s organs became more and more a part of her…)

“Well, if you say so, dear…”

Her mother frowned at her. Yoriko made a point of eating every bite and plastering a smile on her face the entire time. Her mother watched, the frown on her face deepening with every bite.

That night, she ran out to the pharmacy and bought a medical eyepatch to replace the bandage she’d taped over her eye that day.

The next morning, she put on the eyepatch and went down to cook for her sister.

“Is there something wrong with your eye?”

“I fell and got a small cut on my eyelid,” she said, not too quickly. She finished stacking breakfast on a plate and walked over to the table. “It still hasn’t healed. I’m trying to…”

Sumiko’s scent filled her nostrils. She stopped, suddenly forgetting what she’d just said. Her mouth started filling with drool.

“Uh—anyway, here’s your breakfast.” The plate shook in her hands as she put it down.

A quick glance showed her that Sumiko had noticed. A frown pulled at the younger girl’s face, but she didn’t ask what was wrong. Instead, she said, “I won’t tell Mom. That you ran out a two nights back, I mean.”

Yoriko nodded. “Thanks.”

“Um…” Sumiko fiddled with her fork. “So… where did you go? I didn’t hear you come back in that night…”

She tried to think of something to say. She couldn’t, so she shook her head and looked away. The air started to feel heavy as neither of them said anything, and her mouth got more and more watery, so she turned to leave.

“You’re not going to eat with me?”

“Not hungry,” she said over her shoulder. “Have a nice day at school!”

She closed the door behind her, and plopped down on her bed, willing herself to go to sleep.

In an hour, her phone buzzed with another unanswered text:

U missed school. R u okay? Should i give u notes?

Still not in today? Whats wrong u normally answer.

Should i come over? Ur scaring me.

She flipped over in bed, staring hard at the screen for a moment. Then, she answered.

Don’t come, Touka.

She shut off her phone and closed her eyes. Her dreams were filled with the (oddly sweet sounding) crunching of bones and the tearing of flesh.

“Hey, Sumi, you read about ghouls?”

“A little. I just—there was an interesting book. I heard that their eyes changed color and knives and bullets don’t hurt them, and I wanted to see if it was true. So… the book was official and stuff.”

Yoriko still lay in bed. She looked up at the ceiling, while Sumiko stared into the corner.

“Do you know if ghouls can care about humans? Like, they go around looking like humans, pretending to be them. Do you think they ever become friends with a human or… something?”

“Yeah… I read something like that once,” her little sister said. “There was this guy—a ghoul, I mean—and he got close to this girl. They started dating. But it turned out he was just leading her on so he could kidnap her and take her to this restaurant place where she’d get eaten.”

“What? But that… doesn’t make any sense. Why would he go through all the trouble of dating her if he could just, you know, kidnap her? That’s just a story, right?”

She heard Sumiko shrug. “The book said that the ghoul admitted he liked dating girls and betraying them before he killed and ate them. And it wasn’t just a story. The book was about a bunch of ghouls that the CCG had actually taken down. It was a journalism thing, with interviews from the girl and the investigators who rescued her.”

Yoriko turned her head to the side, away from her sister. Rize smiled at her, red eyes gleaming in her blurred vision.

“Of course,” Rize laughed, “The look on the face of someone when they’ve just been betrayed by someone they trusted is as delicious as any meat.”

Yoriko frowned.

“Do you think I couldn’t have simply picked off vagrants in an alley? Do you think I had to take your hand and make you smile? Of course not. I did that to see the despair in your eyes when it all crumbled around you.”

Yoriko closed her eyes. She could feel a familiar tingling in one of them. Rize was gone. She clutched her phone a little tighter.

“Betrayal, huh…”

“You skipped school two days in a row without even telling me.”

Yoriko cringed, clutching her blanket at her mother’s tone.

“Imagine my surprise when your homeroom teacher calls me. Do you realize how much of an idiot you made me feel like?”

Before she could do anything, her mother had yanked her out of bed. Yoriko flung her hand up to cover her eye. She waited for Mrs. Kosaka to shake her or start yelling again. Instead, her mother’s voice was even.

“I really don’t appreciate this type of dishonesty,” her mother sighed. “You know you can tell me if you’re not feeling well, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“You said you were feeling better. But you don’t feel good enough to go to school?”

“I… it’s not that, I just…”

Inhaling her mother’s scent at this distance was a bit like smelling a freshly cooked breakfast after starving for a few days. And she was still hungry. She swallowed.

Her mother was saying something. She should focus. She should focus, or…

“Yoriko, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

She winced at the sudden screeching in her ear, and suddenly the hand she’d covered her eye with was yanked away by the wrist. Yoriko panicked for a moment before forcing herself to calm down. Her eye wasn’t tingling at the moment, so it couldn’t be doing the red-and-black thing. Still, she closed it, just in case it suddenly turned. She waited for a slap, or more screeching. Through her one open eye, she could suddenly see her mother holding back tears.

“I know it’s been hard for you since you got out of the hospital,” she said, her voice wobbling, “But it’s hard for me when you don’t tell me what’s going on. I work twelve hours in a row only to come home and find you throwing up and not acting yourself. Then I get some call saying that you’ve lied to me, and do you know how that feels?”

Her eye shot open. “I’m… I’m sorry Mom,” she started to feel her throat starting to close.

“It makes me feel like I’m just some doormat for you and your sister to wipe your feet on. You step all over me and then forget I exist because you don’t have to worry about putting food in the fridge. Yes, fine, ignore your mother who breaks her back to make sure you both go to college. Don’t bother to try to explain yourself, just do whatever you feel like.”

Yoriko mumbled, “That’s not what I… That’s not what I think at all…”

Her mother took a deep breath. Her face got a little less red.

“Then tell me what’s wrong. That, or I’m driving you back to the hospital right now.”

Yoriko gulped, flicking her eyes around. She thought of something.

“I… had a fight with my friend.”

She sat down on her bed, and looked at the floor. She made up the details, blurting out an imaginary story as though it were a confession. Somehow she managed to make it sound as sincere as if she were saying, “I’ve suddenly started to want to eat people, my best friend probably is out to kill me, and I’m attracted to girls. I got into the accident because I was on a date with a woman.”

At the end of it her mother sighed. “That’s all? Please, dear, I thought you were more mature than that. Girls fight over those things and get over them just as quickly. You’ll be better off going to school and facing her.”

Yoriko nodded meekly, and went to get dressed.

Touka grabbed her so hard that she yelped.

“Yoriko!” she blabbered, “You’re back! I was so worried that I was ready to run over and kick your door down! Did something happen to your eye?”

Yoriko’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. She had tried to take the path to the back door of school, the one that she and Touka never used. She had tried not to run into the other girl. Somehow, she had failed. But she didn’t push her away like she should have. Instead, she froze.

“Hey, are you listening?” Touka shook her a little, but it didn’t feel as harsh or jarring as when her mother sometimes would do it. “I… Yoriko, you’re shaking. What’s wrong?”

She didn’t look in Touka’s eyes but tried to move her lips, form some sort of response. Let go. Don’t touch me. That’s what it should have been. Instead, her throat rebelled, constricting painfully. She could barely let out air. Little light spots of dizziness freckled her vision.

“Hey! Hey,” Touka’s grip softened. “What happ—no, never mind that.”

She felt herself being pulled. Every nerve in her body screamed at the gesture. She was looking into the dead, teary eyes of the woman in the alley again. She was smelling blood and hearing Rize’s laugh ringing in her eardrums, just like the frantic rush of her own blood. She had to do something, had to—had to push the ghoul away while she could.

But she didn’t.

“Breathe,” Touka said after she had her sit down on a nearby bench.

She tried. She would have gotten as much oxygen if she’d been breathing through the world’s smallest straw. She felt Touka’s hand on her shoulder. It burned like dry ice.

Go away. I told you to stay away in my text. Did you really not get that, or are you playing dumb on purpose?

“Just, try taking in deep breaths to the count of eight, I think? And breathe out to the same number. I’ll count. One…”

The oxygen started to enter her veins again. Her lungs stopped burning. She realized she was breathing in sync with Touka’s counting. She started breathing normally. She didn’t stop shaking, or holding her shoulders tight.

“You better?”

She nodded. Her chest hurt, her head spun, and she felt like she’d go insane any moment, but she was better. She heard Touka sigh. Shakily, she brought her head up to look at her.

Touka was leaning over her, hand still gently holding her by the shoulder. Her expression was twisted with worry, eyebrows knit and mouth tense. As Yoriko watched, her frown slowly upturned into that soft, uncertain smile she knew so well.

“Good,” Touka breathed, letting her head drop for a moment before bringing it up with a bright grin. “I saw that breathing-counting on T.V. Never thought it’d work for anything but… y’know.”

There was still a lump in Yoriko’s throat. She stared at her friend. She was every bit the girl she’d known. Everything she’d come to love and cherish the past three years shone right back at her. She could have believed that it all (the cruel ripping of the corpse, the blood trickling down that pale chin) had been some kind of dream, but… she sniffed.

The smell.

Touka smelled different. Not enticing. Not like breakfast or any other meal. Not repulsive, but not mouth-watering the way Sumiko… the way humans were. The moment she realized it, she could have kicked herself because it was so obvious now. Touka was a ghoul.

So why was Touka giving her that smile?

“It’s all for that look you’ll give the second she tears everything down around your ears,” Rize’s whisper tickled her ear, “More delicious than any muscle or organ, remember?”

“Yoriko? Are you… are you really okay?” Touka’s smile disappeared. “You still haven’t said anything—you didn’t, like, trade your voice like that mermaid or anything, right?”

Yoriko’s eyes well up and tears trickle down before she could stop herself. “T-Touka, I… I don’t understand you at all!”

She saw the shock on her friend’s face before she doubled over on her knees, smothered her cries as much as she could with her fist.

“I don’t understand anyone,” she sobbed. “I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would someone…?”

“What do you mean, you don’t understand me? What happened?” Touka gripped her a little harder. “Hey… this doesn’t have anything to do with Rize, does it?”

She still doesn’t—? Yoriko’s eyes widened. Yes, Rize. She and Touka were both ghouls, so they might have known each other. Maybe they were real friends, if ghouls had such relationships. She suddenly thought of them both sitting together, laughing about the stupid human girl they’d ensnared and betting on which of them would get her first.

Touka. Rize. Yoriko suddenly laughed hysterically. Or maybe she was crying harder.

“What did I say?” Touka asked, taken aback.

“I-it’s j-just so funny!” she managed through agonized gasps. It’s funny because the two women I was most attracted to were both ghouls! But she couldn’t say that. “Air… need air…”

It took her a few minutes to calm down again. And through it all, Touka’s hand was still on her, awkward but refusing to let go. Yoriko still trembled, and though her sobbing got quieter the tears leaked freely because she was so afraid. Worse, everything was over. Even if Touka couldn’t kill her right now because they were at school, she’d never be able to carelessly walk with her again the way they used to. She’d never be able to cook lunch for her again. Those little things had made her so happy and now they’d vanished like sand blown from her fingers.

This was the girl she’d loved—no, that she’d thought she’d loved in the depths of her hormone-addled delusion. Now all she felt was fear and regret.

I wish I’d never befriended her. I wish I’d never tried to be friends with anyone.

She’d stopped crying. Touka was sitting by her, wrapping an arm around her waist and burying her in a hug. Yoriko wondered if she was getting a feel for the softness of her meat, taking in her scent to see how good she might taste.

“Hey, why don’t we eat her?” Rize asked, “It would practically be a service to society. She’s nothing but a dirty ghoul who’s waiting to betray you, isn’t she? There’s no reason for you to starve when eating will get rid of such a despicable bitch…”

Yoriko froze at that thought, then shoved Touka away with all her might.

“Yori—”

“Class,” she mumbled, dazedly. “We’re late for class.”

She ran for the door.

She didn’t take her eyepatch off when she plopped into bed that night. She lay down, holding her breath when she heard Sumiko’s footsteps.

“I know you’re not asleep. You’re not breathing right to be asleep.”

“O-oh,” Yoriko responded.

Sumiko sat on the floor, her back against the bed. Yoriko expected her to not say anything, but uncharacteristically, choppy words started fill the room.

“So… I got in trouble today,” she started, her voice lower and rougher than normal, “My teacher didn’t like my essay. I did it about bugs. Um, she said it was too weird and stuff but it’s just… bugs. I mean, I it was supposed to be a compare/contrast essay and I did it about the praying mantis and the black widow spider. They called me into the office and said it was disturbing…”

She tried to listen to her sister. But her head throbbed and her stomach lurched and Sumiko smelled better than cheesecake. The words started to jumble.

She cut her sister off midsentence. “Hey, can you leave? I really need to go to bed.” She realized how abrupt it sounded, and amended, “We can talk about this later but I’m too tired now.”

Sumiko didn’t respond for about twenty seconds. Then, she stood up. Yoriko couldn’t see her expression.

“Sumi?”

Her little sister walked stiffly out the door, turned and slammed it. Yoriko heard her run down the hall to her own room.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, unheard.

In the night, when she knew Sumiko had to be asleep and their mother hadn’t gotten home from work yet, she snuck down to the kitchen.

“Knives don’t work on ghouls, huh…” she whispered. She opened the cupboard. It took her a second to pick.

Please let me be this human, at least.

She started to saw back and forth. But she—coward, coward, coward!—could never seem to push the blade with enough strength. Her muscles went limp in her right arm against her will. Understandable, she supposed. Self-preservation was a strong instinct. She took a deep breath, and lifted it.

It was probably just like jumping off the diving board the first time, or getting into cold water. Starting slow and working up to it was a waste of time: not an option. Better to take the plunge, go for it immediately. No need to be dainty here; if she really hurt herself, then could she say she didn’t deserve it? With that thought, she steeled herself. She hardened her grip.

Yoriko aimed, and brought the knife down with all her strength.

It broke.

Outisde, the air was cool and full of the scent of meat.

She stumbled into another alley, breathless from running again. She collapsed, her legs weak and her stomach twisting again.

She had to eat. She had to—she was weak and in pain, and why should she suffer like this? She breathed, letting the scent of human meat fill her nostrils. She crawled forward, pulling herself up to follow it without realizing what she was doing.

A dead body. Funny. Was this city just stacked with corpses? Or was it just that it was so easy to find them once she was smelling for them like this? She didn’t think about it long. I won’t be hurting anyone if they’re already dead. She reached forward to it, and…

A blow hit her in the ribs.

“What’s this? Some rat trying to steal my kills?”

It took her a while to lift her head. A ghoul stared down at her, red and black eyes gleaming. He wore glasses. She thought that was funny. Dark, inhuman eyes—and then glasses. She didn’t notice when she started giggling, but she stopped as harsh kicks rained down on her. She covered her head.

He was saying something about his “territory” and “trespassers.” She couldn’t make it out. It hurt too much to have her body beaten like a dirty rug and flung about like a rag doll.

“Please stop,” she begged, only to get another kick in the face. She tried to get up, but found herself pinned down by a foot.

“You think you can get away with feeding off my territory because you’re female? Give me a break.”

“Oh? Your territory?”

Yoriko cringed at that voice, eyes widening. Of all the places... Touka…

It was over in an instant. She was too dizzy to catch the words they exchanged, but Touka sent the other ghoul running. Yoriko crawled away, hopefully far enough that her classmate wouldn’t smell her over the stench of the corpse. She curled up, covering her face. Don’t look at me…

“Yo,” she heard Touka say, accompanied by a sickening rip. “You wanted some, right?”

She did, she did, oh god she did—but she turned away. A lump was tossed in her direction. Yoriko jumped a little at the sight. It was a bloody hand, torn off as easily as Sumiko might tear off a piece of bread from a loaf. She clenched her fists, and mustered every last bit of her willpower to ignore it. She wanted to eat, and the person was already dead but—but—not in front of…

“Pfft, what’s that reaction? You feeling bad? Well, I’m not eating any.” She heard Touka kick the corpse lightly. Yoriko’s body cringed in horror at the casualness of the gesture. “Fucker’s old and stiff, not my kind of meal. You can—”

“That’s all we are to you, then,” Yoriko bit out, not able to stop herself. “A meal.”

Dead silence, besides the city noises in the background. She shook, half-terrorized and half-angry. She didn’t want to turn and see whatever Touka was doing because if she saw Touka acting that way one more time she was sure her heart would wither away and die.

“Y-Yori—?” she could almost hear her classmate choke. “No…”

She heard the steps. She wanted to stand up tall and scream at her, but instead she meekly tried to slide up the wall. Run away, she ordered her feeble legs. Run before she…

No.

She didn’t know what it was, but something in her prompted her to turn around and shakily drawing up her head. She looked Touka in the eyes. Wide, blue. Just like at school. She looked perfectly human, though pale-faced, haggard, and increasingly aghast as their gazes stayed connected longer. Shock. Disbelief. Something like fear. So many emotions sped across her features that Yoriko couldn’t read them all. Touka swallowed, taking a step back.

“Yoriko… you’re a… since when…?”

Bile rose in her throat. She stayed propped against the wall, too weak for anything else.

“Touka. You liar.”

Chapter Text

Yoriko lived in a different world. Touka’s world was full of rage, adrenaline, betrayal, and loss. Yoriko danced along the surface of all that like bugs she’d seen skimming along the edge of water, untouched. She didn’t have a place in the sort of life Touka lived. She was like those princesses in human fairy tales: too good to hate, too sweet to know real fear, too beautiful to be anything but ignorant.

That was what Touka liked about her. It was also why they’d eventually have to part.

She could remember the first time she thought of Yoriko as a friend. It had taken a lot longer than it should have.

It was a few weeks after Ayato had left. She still hadn’t cried. She’d refused to cry over that immature asshole brother of hers. Instead, she’d gone to school, gone to work, and gotten everything done that she’d needed too. She’d felt dizzy, sick, or weak some days but she’d just ignored it and pushed on. And it had been working. She hadn’t broken down.

Then, one insultingly sunny morning she’d woken up, brushed her teeth, looked out the window and realized it: I haven’t felt happy at all since he left.

And that was enough to ruin her day. Because, unfairly enough, realizing how miserable she’d been the entire time made her even more miserable. She spent the day trying not to sulk and barely stopping herself from ripping the head off of anyone who so much as looked in her direction. When Yoriko had asked to eat lunch under the tree in the schoolyard, she’d thought she’d scream because the idea of choking down disgusting human food right then on top of everything else was too much.

“Sure. We can eat there,” she’d somehow managed to mutter in response.

They’d sat down in the shade, and Touka had waited for the food, calculating the minutes it would take until she finished and could run out and barf without drawing suspicion. A delicate hand on her shoulder had drawn her out of her thoughts. She looked and saw Yoriko’s eyes soft with worry.

“Is there something wrong? You look like something’s bothering you.”

Touka had clenched her fists and ground her teeth. She hadn’t told her anything about Ayato. “I’m okay.”

But Yoriko had still looked at her with those wide, wide eyes and asked, “Are you sure?”

And Touka had hated her. Hated her because she shoved disgusting human food at her every day and for some reason she kept eating it instead of telling her to piss off. Hated her because she didn’t have to live her life one mistake away from becoming a quinque. Hated her because she couldn’t possibly understand so why the hell was she asking anyway? Hated her because Yoshimura, Koma, and Irimi had asked her that same gentle question, but Touka hadn’t cried then so why—why—?

She’d hated Yoriko. But she’d let Yoriko hug her and suddenly she was shakily grasping her friend’s arms and weeping. Not burying her face in her shirt; she had too much dignity for that. But still—she hated herself. She’d told herself she’d never do this. She was supposed to be stronger than this.

So she’d clutched Yoriko’s arms. Held her at arm’s length, so she didn’t disgust herself with more contact. Held her tight, as though if she squeezed tightly enough she could make it so that she’d never leave the way Ayato did. Yoriko hadn’t asked what was wrong. She hadn’t said that everything would be okay either, that dumb thing that humans would say.

Instead, she’d said, “Is there anything you need? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Touka had shook her head and wept more. And she’d felt weak, disgusting, pathetic—everything she’d tried never to be and it was all because of one stupid human girl and her stupid voice and her stupid eyes. But then Touka had exhaled, and the tears had fallen, and she hadn’t hated Yoriko anymore. Instead, she’d let herself lean her head against her friend’s shoulder and closed her eyes, mumbling out some half-truth about her brother.

“You have a brother? I never knew…”

And then, Touka had a new reason to be happy every day. Because Yoriko was something different—a creature who lived in some other world without loss, rage, or the terror of being hunted—but she was Touka’s friend. Not pretend-friends so that Touka could blend into human society. Not pity-friends because Yoriko didn’t know how the hell to stand up for herself. Her real friend. Her first friend. Her only friend.

At night, she would lie in bed and run through a million different scenarios of when they’d have to part. Maybe she would just have to go on the run without saying goodbye. Maybe she’d lie, promising to see her the next day and then disappearing without a trace. Maybe she’d get cut down by an investigator and Yoriko would see her name in the news. Maybe Yoriko would find out. Maybe she’d call the CCG. Thinking about it prepared her for it—or so she thought.

Sometimes, when she couldn’t stop herself, she imagined worlds where they were together forever. But that never lasted.

Things were okay, and then they weren’t. It only took a few seconds. One moment was business as usual, putting Nishiki in his place and figuring out what was up with this weird ghoul that turned away from her. The next—

One eye: green, human. The other: red, black, ghoul.

Touka stepped back. She couldn’t believe—it wasn’t. She had to be dreaming. Yoriko secretly being a ghoul: she hadn’t even imagined that in her dumbest, most optimistic moments. She didn’t know. She didn’t know whether to be terrified or what. Somehow though, all those dreams of being together forever fluttered up—

“Touka. You liar.”

—and broke like glass. Oh. Yoriko’s eyes were wild, terrified, enraged. Her face twisted in what had to be disgust. It was an ugly expression. It didn’t belong on sweet Yoriko’s face. It smacked Touka back to reality.

This isn’t… that kind of dream, then…

“All this time, you’ve lied to me. I can’t believe it… I can’t believe you. You never liked my food. You never… what else did you lie about? Your dad? Your brother? Do you even have one? Or was that just another lie too?”

Touka tried to open her throat. Words, she pleaded internally, Have to say words. Nothing came out. Yoriko leaned against the wall, her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her voice was soft, strained with emotion.

“I don’t understand… you were so good at acting like you were my friend. How long? How long until you planned to eat me?”

The accusation sent spikes through every one of Touka’s limbs. “No! I never—!”

“Don’t lie again! I can’t take it. I can’t. I can’t!” Yoriko’s voice cracked, “Was I just too small? Were you waiting until I’d gotten fatter? How… how dare you? It meant so much t-to me, and you just… you just used me like that. Why did you have to pretend to be my friend? I wish you’d just eaten me right away instead!”

Touka’s fists clenched. She looked away. “I was never going to eat you. You’re my fr—”

“Stop it,” Yoriko’s voice was hardly louder than a whisper. “Just stop it. You’re too cruel… I-I don’t know you. You’re not my friend. You’re so, so horrible, and you lie, and you eat people like they’re nothing! That’s… that’s the worst. You’re not my friend; you’re a killer.”

Touka felt her lips part. She tried to say something again, but her throat was in a knot. She swallowed, looking down. “What does that make you then?”

The scream that tore from Yoriko at that almost made her jump. It was loud, anguished, raw—it sounded more like an animal's scream than anything she’d ever heard from her friend’s throat. She looked up, and saw her friend slamming her fists against the wall.

“Shut up! I’m not—I’m not like you! I don’t eat people. I haven’t—I haven’t! I won’t!”

Yoriko was curling up, slamming her head against the wall, covering her ghoul eye. Touka stepped forward, reaching out a shaking hand. Her human friend—formerly human?—looked like she was in so much pain. Touka’s stomached churned. Still, she reached forward.

Yoriko’s eyes widened once they noticed. She stumbled away as best she could supporting her shoulder on the wall. “Don’t touch me! Don’t!”

Touka’s outstretched fingers froze. She let her fingers curl. Something inside her sparked. “You’re not like me? So you weren’t just drooling over this corpse?”

Yoriko’s hands shot over her ears. “No! I’m not… it was a mistake. The hospital… Rize… I’m not a gh-ghoul.”

“So, you’re saying you definitely don’t want to eat this?” Touka could feel the bitter smile pulling at her lips as she grabbed the severed hand on the floor. She watched Yoriko’s shoulders twitch, and her eyes come up. Her eyes gleamed with ghoulish hunger. Drool started to trickle down her mouth. Then, she grabbed her face and sobbed.

“I won’t, I won’t, no, no, can’t, I can’t,” Yoriko babbled, shutting her eyes and digging her fingers into her skin. “There’s no point… There’s no point to living if you do something like that! I won’t be a monster! I won’t be like you!”

The hand dropped out of Touka’s. “Like me? What are you saying?”

She could feel her own voice drop. Her heart pounded. Her blood boiled, the way it would right before a fight. Yoriko tried to stumble away again, but she stomped forward, snatching the girl by a fistful of hair on the back of her head. Yoriko barely struggled. Weak. She’d always been too weak to fight back.

Touka forced her head up to look her in the eyes. She held her like that, drinking in the look of terror on the other girl’s face. Her own limbs shook. Yoriko trembled like a frightened rabbit in her grasp, and Touka could feel her heart shrivel at the sight. She’d never—never wanted…

“No point in living, huh?” she barely kept her voice under control. “Fine. Then starve to death. See how you like it.”

The expression Yoriko made at that hurt, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“But you can’t, can you? You’ve never gone to bed hungry before in your life. You’ve gotten to eat three times a day, whenever you felt like it! And now you’re going to stop yourself? Don’t make me laugh.” She grasped Yoriko’s hair tighter until the other girl whimpered. “Go ahead. Go home. Pretend you can be normal. You’ll snap. Just wait.”

Yoriko tried to mouth something, but she choked instead. Tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks. Touka’s grip loosened.

“Once you get hungry enough, you’ll forget everything. And then you’ll eat that bitch mother of yours or your retarded sister. Just wait. See if I care.”

Touka waited for more screaming, more accusations, more denial. Instead, Yoriko’s mouth opened in silent horror and her eyes widened, trembling. Touka felt her stomach sink. She pushed the other girl away.

“Just… get out of my sight,” she muttered halfheartedly, feeling her own eyes sting.

She looked away, and soon she heard Yoriko’s half-stumbling, half-running footsteps leave the alley. Once they were gone, Touka grit her teeth and buried her face in her hands.

Yoriko was good and innocent. But god, the innocent could be so cruel.

She hated Yoriko. That was her first thought when she woke up the next morning. But she hated a lot of things, and the rage she’d hurled against them always seemed a little satisfying. Hating Yoriko was different. Hating Yoriko made her sick, made her feel weak and horrible inside. It made her feel lost. It made her want to disappear, to shrivel up and die so she never had to feel like this again.

She hates me. The thought hurt like fiery metal searing through her chest. It shouldn’t have. Those things her friend—her former friend—had said should be enough for her to disown any regard she had for her opinion. Anyway, she had known this would happen, so she should be able to shrug it off.

You’re not my friend, you’re a killer. I’m not a monster. I’m not like you.

Touka turned over in bed, covering her ears with her pillow as though that could block it all out.

You eat people like they’re nothing. You’re the worst. There’s no point in something like you living.

“Pass,” she whispered to herself the way she would when the urge to vomit human food came over her. “Pass.”

But it wouldn’t. She knew it wouldn’t. There was only ever one way to banish these sort of thoughts, and that was doing things. Working. Busying herself so that there wasn’t any room to remember. She pulled herself lethargically out of bed. No school that day, but she did have a short shift to work. She didn’t know whether to bless it or curse it, so she got ready and snuck into her shift.

She tried to do everything right and not make any noise. If she could just get through this without snapping, then maybe no one would notice or say anything.

“Is something the matter, Touka?”

Damn it. Her shoulders tensed. “Nothing.”

“You sure?” Koma asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! “What did I just say?”

Koma shrugged. “Well, you know you can always talk to us.”

Go fuck yourself. “Sure.”

The next few hours passed without another comment. She kept smiling at the customers despite the long stream of swearing running through her brain at every new face. Any spare moment and suddenly she was seeing Yoriko’s tear-stained face again, or hearing those footsteps stumble out of the alley. The coffee would steam, screaming, and she’d recall the pitch of her friend’s wail back there.

No good. It was slowing her down. She was fumbling with the dishes and zoning out on orders she was supposed to be taking. Irimi was giving her a sideways look. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck everything. She ground her teeth together, nearly slamming the dishes into the sink.

Another hour passed. It felt like the entire day. No one said anything though. And she wouldn’t have even thought to tell them, except that she suddenly saw the man in the white coat.

A dove. Sitting outside the café.

Her fingers slackened. She heard a plate break against the floor, but that was a thousand miles away. There was only the investigator slowly making his way to the door, and the sound of her own thumping heart.

“Shit,” she whispered.

Yoriko… how could you?

But that was a dumb thought. Why wouldn't she? How had Touka expected her to do anything else? Shit, it hadn’t even crossed her mind that Yoriko would tell the CCG! How dumb was she? Of course Yoriko would call them immediately! No normal ghoul would, but Yoriko had been human. She could easily phone in without compromising her own secret. And she’d outright said she thought Touka was a monster.

But none of this had occurred to her in the alley. The idea of… eliminating Yoriko to protect herself and Anteiku hadn’t even crossed her mind. Now that it did, she felt sick. Part of her, the tiny part that wasn’t pumping with terror, was glad that it was too late for anything like that.

I have to… she’s already called in and said I’m a ghoul. But everyone else, they probably don’t know about everyone else. If I can just divert his attention, then maybe everyone else will be safe.

Her eyes darted around. Would the investigator attack immediately? Would he sit down and make small talk? Should she just leave? Get out before anything could happen? He came closer to the door. She braced herself.

And then the investigator passed. He didn’t even give the coffee shop a second glance.

“Touka? Hey, Touka?” Irimi was shaking her. “This is getting out of hand. You need a break?”

Touka didn’t respond. Instead, she walked to the counter and supported herself. Her heart raced. Her limbs tingled as though with electricity. He wasn’t coming after her. He’d left. She hadn’t been reported. She took a deep, shuddering breath. The fear stayed even if the momentary danger had passed.

That dove wasn’t after us. But she still could have reported me.

“Irimi,” she said, “I need to talk to the manager.”

A cup of coffee and a long explanation later, Touka’s heart had stopped trying to hammer its way through her ribcage. Sort of. Her fingers still twitched, ready to jump at the blink of an eye. The manager rubbed his chin and sighed.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she mumbled, “I should have thought of everyone else immediately. I don’t know why I didn’t think she’d report me. I just…”

Her eyes stung, so she didn’t continue.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Touka. Are you sure that she’s reported you?”

“How can you even ask?” she muttered, “She’s human. Or she was. Now she’s… I don’t know, she said something about Rize and a transplant, so she’s some kind of hybrid I guess.”

The manager hummed thoughtfully. “A one-eyed ghoul, huh?”

Touka waited, fingers still twitching. “What will we do?”

“How about this?” the manager said, setting down his coffee. “You contact your friend and get her to come here. I don’t think she’s reported you just yet. If she had, an investigator would have already come. They don’t take a lot of time preparing for a raid unless they know they’re going after an S-rank or above.”

Touka frowned. “So you want Yoriko to come here and…?”

“And we’ll see where it goes from there,” the manager said, “She must be lost right now, if she’s just become a ghoul. I heard about this transplant case in the papers. Rize hasn’t been seen for a while, and they didn’t release the name of the young woman whose organs they transplanted, so I think your friend was given Rize’s organs. That must have turned her into a ghoul.”

Touka nodded, letting the information sink in. “You really think she didn’t report me?

“We’ll keep an eye out to make sure, but no. It’s possible she’s conflicted herself, and she doesn’t know whether she wants to report you or not. I’ll have Yomo keep his ear to the ground in case she does, but if so then I have a contact you can stay with in the 23rd ward until things cool down. The rest of us will be fine.”

Touka gave another nod. “Sure,” she answered curtly. “You’d… take the risk to recruit her? Even though she might expose us?

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? She is your friend.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, her forehead furrowed and she ground her teeth again.

Monster. Killer, Yoriko’s voice echoed through her head.

Honestly, she had hoped she’d never have to look into that face again. She didn’t feel violent about it, but the idea of talking to Yoriko again made her queasy. She hated Yoriko. Or maybe not. Maybe it was herself, or everything that happened last night she hated. Either way, it didn’t matter.

“I just… I don’t care. Whatever. I just don’t want to get reported and have to live in that shithole of a ward, okay?”

She knew what the manager was going to ask next. She could see it written all over his face. She didn’t let him ask it, but stood up and pulled out her phone.

“I’ll call her. Send a message. I’ll tell you once she answers.”

Then she left before he could ask it.

Would you rather kill her? Would you be willing to kill her to protect everyone else? Do you want to get back at her for what she did?

She dialed the number before she could think of the answer.

Touka rang twice. No one ever picked up. She finally left a voicemail.

“Hey, um. About last night. I’m…” She wasn’t sorry. Fuck being sorry, after being called those things. “Uh, I think we need to talk. You don’t have anything to worry about from me. I just… there are some options, if you don’t want to ki—hurt anyone. You know what I mean. We can help you. So, please. Call me back.”

She waited into the afternoon. No answer. She sent a text.

Have u been screening my calls? Whatever.

I just want to say there are options for u if u don’t want to be like me. Plz call, and I can tell u about it.

No answer. Touka finished her shift, and went to lay on a couch in her room. She wished she could rest. Instead, her burning eyes might as well have been held open by pliers. She decided that Yoriko must think it was a trap. Maybe she’d just forgotten to call the CCG before. Maybe she would now.

Touka’s fingers twitched. She rolled over.

There’s no point in living if you eat other people.

Furiously, she typed out her next text.

So u said theres no point living if ur like me. Well what do u want me to do? Kill myself?

She didn’t send it. She looked at it, and slowly pressed the delete button.

“Fuck it,” she muttered to herself before jumping up and grabbing a jacket. If Yoriko was going to say things like that, then Touka had to settle it to her face. And then hopefully drop her off with the manager and never have to interact with her ever again.

“I’m going out,” she told the manager. “I’m gonna talk to her.”

The old man’s face wrinkled more with his smile. “Good luck.”

She let the door close behind her and broke into a run. She didn’t want to waste any time.

Touka had never liked Yoriko’s mother. The woman was self-centered and irrational every time she had the displeasure of interacting with her. She’d rather jump up to Yoriko’s window than knock on the door and risk seeing her pinched, neurotic face. And she tried that, again. The curtain was drawn, but she knocked anyway. It didn’t prompt an answer from inside. The only option was the front door. She jumped off the window, landing easily before walking around to the door. She took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

The flurry of footsteps inside surprised her. The door flung open. Mrs. Kosaka’s hair was disheveled, her face more screwed-up than usual without her make-up. The whites of her eyes were red, bloodshot. The woman looked blearily at her before pressing her lips into a thin line.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sneered.

“Yes,” Touka didn’t look her in the eyes. If she looked her in the eyes she’d be too pissed off to not rip her throat out. “I was wondering if I could speak to Yoriko. She never picked up the assignments from when she was missing, so I need to get them to her.”

Inside the house, she saw Yoriko’s little sister hovering around. The girl had been looking right at her, but stopped the second Touka looked back.

“Excuse me?” the woman asked harshly.

“I… need to give Yoriko her assignments.”

“Yes, I heard you. But I’m sorry, I don’t consider this sort of thing funny.”

“Funny?”

“Acting like you don’t know anything. As though Yoriko hasn’t run off because of you.”

A twitch ran through Touka's arms. “What do you mean?”

“She was always so well-behaved,” the woman moaned, “Such a sweet girl. And now she runs off in the night like some delinquent. She’d never do such a thing herself. Someone put her up to it, so don’t give me that innocent act.”

Touka’s jaw dropped. “She’s… gone? She left?”

“I heard her leave last night. She didn’t come back,” Yoriko’s sister mumbled helpfully from inside.

Touka looked up at Mrs. Kosaka’s angry face, and then to the little girl’s downturned one. “She ran away? Did she take her phone?”

“As though you don’t already know!” Mrs. Kosaka shrieked. “I know it’s you. It has to be you. I never approved of my daughter hanging around some unfeminine, wannabe thug, but I never said anything and now look at me. Well, that’s the last straw. If you’re not here to tell me where she is, then that’s that. You won’t be hearing anything from me. Good day.”

“Wait—”

The door slammed in her face. Touka stood there for a moment, shaking.

She didn’t come home last night.

She recalled the feeling of Yoriko’s hair between her fingers, the look on her face when she’d snapped at her that she’d eat her mother and sister.

She didn’t come back because I told her she’d kill her family if she did.

Touka stumbled down the steps and slammed her fist repeatedly against the nearest lamp post. “Idiot!” she hissed, not sure if it was at herself or Yoriko. Where would she go? Where could Yoriko go if not her own home? How would Touka find her?

She pulled out her phone as she walked away. She dialed Yoriko’s number. No answer.

“Hey, I just went to your house. You didn’t go home last night, apparently. Do you still have your phone? Please pick up. It’s not safe to wander around like that. We can help. Please call me back.”

She hung up, hurrying away even though she had no idea where the fuck she should go. She was a block away when she heard the pitter patter of running footsteps behind her.

“Wait! Um, Touka!”

She turned around. It was Yoriko’s sister. The little girl came to a halt. She took a deep breath, looking away and clenching the ends of her jacket in her fists.

“She… Yoriko, I mean…” The girl stopped.

Touka walked up to her. “What? What is it? If you know something, please tell me.”

She saw the girl’s jaw harden. “She left a note.”

Touka’s heart leapt. “Great! Did she say where she was going?”

Yoriko’s sister lowered her head more. Touka’s heart started to sink back down at that expression.

“What kind of note is it?”

“I don’t think she left it at first,” the girl mumbled, fiddling with the end of her jacket. “It wasn’t there when she first left. I think she snuck it later in the morning. It was in my room. I think she pushed it through the window. I didn’t show it to Mom.”

Touka didn’t like the tone of the girl’s voice. She didn’t like the tightness of her face. “What kind of note?”

The girl frowned deeply. Her lower lip trembled.

“Can I see it?”

“No!” the thirteen-year-old shook her head, “It was written to me. You can’t see it.”

Brat. “Okay, so what are you here for then? If you’re not going to say anything, then stop wasting my time. What did the letter say?”

It took a long time for her to anwer, but Touka waited. She remembered Yoriko telling her about this, how her little sister would take a long time to say what she wanted to strangers, or how she’d tick off teachers at school by never looking at them when they were talking to her. She remembered, because she’d always been struck by the tender brightness in her friend’s eyes whenever she’d mention it. Touka’s chest tightened.

“She said... she said she won’t be coming back. Ever.”

Touka stayed up past midnight scouring the streets. She checked the alley from the night before, and every abandoned warehouse near it. She swept through every place she thought Yoriko might run to. She asked wandering ghouls if they’d seen anyone of her description. Nothing came up.

There’s no point in living if you do something like that.

“Damn it, Yoriko!” she muttered under her breath. She was the biggest idiot. She’d only been thinking of herself, so of course she’d taken that as an insult directed at her. If she had just gotten her head out of her own ass and thought for a minute, she might have gotten it.

I might have been able to make her understand. I might have been able to calm her down. Then, she wouldn't have...

Yoriko. Suicide. The two thoughts were dimensions apart in Touka’s mind. Yoriko lived in another world. She was a fairy princess compared to Touka; a sweet, cruelly blissful existence that had nothing to do with death or the usual anguish that came with living. But then she’d been hospitalized. Then Rize’s deathly scent had clung to her. Then she’d been pale and weepy at school. Then she’d turned to glare at Touka with one ghoul eye and one human one.

Suddenly, her existence wasn’t so far away or sweet anymore. But the thought of it ending—no. No, no, not like this. Not when the last thing she’d ever do was say those things. Not ever.

But who was she fooling? By now, she’d probably already jumped in a river somewhere.

Touka stopped to catch her breath, leaning against the wall of another alley. She could feel her eyes welling up again. She wiped them, only to feel shaky sobs trying to leap out of her throat. She didn’t know where to go next. There was nothing she could do. Her shoulders shook more. It took her a moment to beat them down and pull herself up again.

The ringtone in her pocket was dim. She didn’t hear it immediately, but the second she did she yanked it out of her pocket. The name on the phone nearly made her weep. She answered.

“Yoriko! Where are you?! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

She heard a breath catch on the other side of the phone. “Touka…”

“We need to talk. Now. Don’t do anything crazy, okay? I’m sorry about… last night,” Touka’s voice started to wobble. Shit, she couldn’t believe herself. Just this morning she’d been wondering why she hadn’t socked Yoriko in the face, and now listen to her.

“I w-wasn’t expecting you to pick up,” Yoriko squeaked. “I wanted to leave a message.”

“No. Just. We can talk. Don’t hang up! Please. No messages. I needed to tell you—you don’t have to be like me if you don’t want. I have friends. Peaceful ghouls. They don’t kill people. They can help you.”

The other side of the phone buzzed with static. Touka gripped it tightly.

“Touka, I’m sorry about what I said.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Double shit, now there were tears leaking out. “Just tell me where you are so I can come get you, okay?”

“I-I can’t.”

“Why not?”

There was a deep, shaky breath through the phone's static. “Because I’m turning myself into the CCG.”

She practically jumped off the wall when she heard that. “No. No you aren’t. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

More static.

“Yoriko, listen! Do you know what they do to ghouls?! You will not! I told you, you can live peacefully! There are ways! Weren’t you listening?”

“It’s… already too late for that.” Yoriko’s tone was dead, hoarse. It hardly sounded like her.

Touka froze, her eyes widening into the darkness. “Yoriko?”

“It’s too late… I’m already a murderer.”

Chapter Text

She didn’t go inside. She didn’t dare. She’d bought a pen, paper, and other materials from a late-open convenience store just to avoid entering her own house. She was so hungry that if she went in she was sure she’d prove Touka right. Not that she needed to. Touka—and her heart seared with pain just to think the name—was already right about everything, and Yoriko was a fool.

She wrote two notes: one for her mother and one for Sumi. It took her an hour and several sheets of paper to finish them. She tore up the first one because she couldn’t find the right words to say. She tore up the second one because she cried all over it and smudged the ink. She tried again only to immediately cry all over it again.

It was only after taking a few minutes to breathe and slump against the back wall of the house that she managed to control herself. She wrote the first two lines of the final notes with shaky, lopsided handwriting before her trembling softened and the words evened out. Not perfect, but it would have to do. She’d said what she needed to. As long as it wasn’t smeared with tears that would hurt her mother or Sumiko more than this had to, it was fine.

By the time she’d folded them and put them each in an envelope, her eyes had dried of all tears and her movements were sluggish but steady. After all, not even she could cry forever; there was an exhaustion limit. She slipped them through Sumiko’s window, trusting her sister to give Mom her own letter. After all, she’d never been the sort of person to hide things.

She walked away slowly, not looking back. She didn’t know where to go, but she knew it had to be far away. Touka was right. If she went back home, then all she’d do was destroy everything. She couldn’t live the way she used to.

She couldn’t live at all. Not when it meant feeding off others.

So, somewhere far away. Far away enough that if they found her body, it would just be a corpse with no family to bring in for identification.

She tried the forest; the one she’d heard about when people had talked about this sort of thing. She took the subway and got there mid-morning. There was a cliff overlooking it. She jumped.

She felt her legs snap right at her knees, and screamed. The next few minutes she rolled around, burning in pain. Then, she stood up, healed. She let out one tearless cry of frustration at that: she’d stood on the edge so long. It had been so hard to finally work up the courage to fall. She deserved to have it work, but all she got was more pain.
Not fair, she thought childishly.

She didn’t cry more, but instead curled up and fell asleep. When the smell of food from within the trees woke her, she got up and ran as fast as she could. Her cellphone rang right as she stopped and gasped for air. She switched it off without looking at it.

She arrived at the river, the back-up plan, around sunset. Knives or bullets would be go good, and even cliffs might never be tall enough, but every creature had to breathe. Even ghouls, then, would die with water in their lungs, or so she figured.

She gripped the rail of the bridge for five minutes, thinking of how painful it had been the last time. She didn’t want to die. Her life hadn’t been a fairy-tale all the way, but there had been times when she was so, so happy. Ending all that now was too awful. Still, it wasn’t as awful as the idea of eating someone else so she could selfishly lengthen her own time.

She threw herself over the bridge.

It was painful, but what she really hadn’t counted on was how long it would take, or how her own body would fight her. She hadn’t realized then that when her vision went white underwater her body would convulse, her arms reaching back up to the surface on her own and pulling her out. She’d inhaled the water deliberately, but her lung revolted and she found herself flailing on solid ground.

Everything burned. Two—three—four—how many minutes did she hack up water? She didn’t know, but when it was finally over she rolled over to see the bystanders: three kids watching. Watching, and doing nothing. But she didn’t really see them. She didn’t notice their hair or clothing like she normally would have. Instead, all she saw was food, food, food.

She scrambled up, grabbing the shoulder bag she’d left on the bridge before she jumped and slipping on her shoes as she ran. Underneath her wet eyepatch, her kakugan flared.
People. There were too many people. She was hungrier, much hungrier even than before. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand it before she attacked someone. She covered her mouth and plugged her nose as she ran back to the subway. She couldn’t look at anyone. She couldn’t breathe. She needed to get it all over with immediately but nothing was working! She wanted to throw herself on the ground and scream at the injustice of it. She was trying to do the right thing, so why did it have to be this hard?

It was late at night by the time she’d dragged herself back to the subway. It was the perfect time, too, since the entire place was empty besides a few people loafing around. It was there, waiting for the next train, that she finally realized the solution. She laughed a little, swaying as she remembered.

“It would be a pretty fast death if you jumped in front of the subway,” the Sumiko of her memories said, “Even if the car doesn’t kill you, the electricity—the electricity that runs through the track—will.”

She mentally blessed her little sister’s penchant for macabre topics, and steeled herself. A train could probably kill a ghoul with its weight and momentum. And then, of course, the electricity. It would be a fast death. There wouldn’t be any long, drawn out pain.

A few droplets of water rolled off her hair and hit the floor. The train was coming. She could hear it.

I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry, Sumi. I’m sorry it had to be this way.

She tried to savor everything she could for the last minute or so of her life. It was hard. The hunger overtook anything she would have wanted to cherish about the moment, so instead she thought of her family, and of Touka. The thoughts were drained of any joy or comfort, but it didn’t matter. Touka was there, omnipresent in her thoughts even after everything. Her smile. Her walk. The times when Yoriko had looked at her and thought she was looking at the best human being in the world. None of those memories would suddenly leave. They surfaced now, even though there was nothing but pain behind them.

A few more droplets dangled and fell. I really am a fool.

The train roared as it approached, and she jumped. The sound split her ears. Everything spun in her eyes and then went white.

Screech.

Slowly, the scene came back. The train sped in a blur before her eyes. Her mouth opened in shock and she lurched forward. Wait, she nearly fell to the floor, realizing. She wasn’t under the tracks. She was alive, unhurt. She hadn’t—she hadn’t made it. Why?! she wanted to shout, I jumped in time, so take me! Why aren’t I there?

As though in response to her thoughts, she felt a tight pressure around her upper arm. It gripped her and pulled her back.

Someone… someone saved…?

She turned around.

“What do you think you’re doing?! You almost killed yourself!”

A voice; panicked, strained. Worried, soft eyes staring down at her. The grip around her arm tightening. A face—a kind face written with pain over what she’d tried to do to herself. A stranger. Some stranger had seen her and saved her. A person—food.

“Are you okay? You look… bad.”

She kept looking, mouth loose with shock. Everything blurred. Her stomach twisted so hard that it became difficult to think. Too weak—she was too weak to even scratch together words in her head. A breeze passed, and a shiver ran through her body. Then, she felt something draped over her.

“Here. You’re all soaked and cold. Let’s get you out of here, okay?”

She tried to say something, but only shook her head violently. No, she tried to say, no, you can’t. You have to leave me. But instead, she let a gentle hold take her shoulders and guide her away. A scent filled her nostrils, something sweet and human and oh-so-delicious to her senses.

Yoriko licked her lips.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

She swayed a little as she walked. The person’s voice blurred in and out, and occasionally she’d see their eyes peek over at her: bright with compassion but furrowed with worry. They—she didn’t think he or she. She couldn’t see them, couldn’t see a man or a woman. All she could see was food. And it was wrong, so wrong, but—

“Like, I can’t say I know what you’re going through? But, at the same time, I think I can help you if you tell me what’s wrong. And I definitely won't judge you, if that's what you're worried about.”

—but they had just walked onto a street with so few people, and dark little entrances to alleys kept flashing by. It would be ridiculously easy to just grab them, shove them into one, and then… anyone who saw them would probably even assume they were lovers, so they wouldn’t question it when she—

“…But I get it if you don’t want to talk about it. So…”

She’d been stopped. They were in front of her now, hands on her shoulders, looking so earnestly.

“Who should I call? Do you have a phone on you? Or can you give me your family’s number? I can call and get you back to them.”

She looked down. It hurt. Everything hurt. Her entire body was on fire. She felt bile rise to her throat. And that smell—it was so sweet, but it was torture just then. Any more of this and she’d die. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t! It hurt, it hurt, it hurt!

She stopped walking, and covered her mouth and nose. It didn’t block out the smell, though, because food was too close. Food was right there, just waiting for her to pluck out a nice juicy bite.

“’m hungry…” she breathed, clutching her stomach as she lurched forward.

“Okay, got it! I got a protein bar with me, er, somewhere…”

She looked up. The person was looking through their handbag. She stood up, reached forward. Then, she shoved them and bolted into the alley.

“Wait!”

She closed her eyes as she ran. Every limb was numb, and it pounded as she ran. She thought her brain and heart might get jumbled from the impact of each bound—she’d never run from something this hard.

“Why are you running?” Rize whispered, the whirring air in her ear, “The food’s practically asking to be eaten. Haven’t you suffered enough, poor thing? You did your best. Can anyone really fault you if you give in now?”

“They’re too good…” she gasped back, “I can’t… I won’t…”

She didn’t know how far she ran before she reached the dead end. She placed her hands on the wall, stopping herself from crumbling down on it.

“Wait!”

She froze. No… why did you follow me?

“Please, just… I don’t want to creep you out or anything, but I can’t just leave you alone out here. Not when you’re like this.”

She slowly turned around. It was dark. The alley had closed in: no easy doors leading away, and that person in front of her. She couldn’t see well, but from the bits of light drifting in she could make out their faint outline. The place was closed off, abandoned. No one would hear any screaming from there.

“Do you not want me to call your family? Is that it? Have they done something to you?”

She hadn’t cried all day, but at the word “family” she felt her lip trembling and her eyes burning again. Mom… Sumi…

“Someone did something wrong to you, didn’t they?” The person stepped forward.

She heard Rize chuckle gently. Yoriko sidled up closer to the wall like a cornered rat. “Go away! Go away!”

“I… you know you have my jacket right? My phone is in the pocket there. And I need my phone back, so...”

Her voice broke. “I said to go away! Leave me alone!”

They hesitated at that. “Please. Just let me help you.”

She started weeping at those words, burying her face in her hands. The footsteps grew closer. Everything inside twitched, priming her to lunge forward. She got another whiff of human scent, and her head spun. Shakily, she drew her hand up to her mouth and bit it. Blood and drool started to drip over her it—disgusting, disgusting.

“Oh no… don’t do that…” the person stopped, dismay coloring their tone.

“Don't be ridiculous. Injuring yourself will just make you hungrier. Now, take your meal,” Rize gripped her shoulders, “See? Smell that human? Can you really say no to that?”

I have to. I have to say no. I have to be strong and stop myself from eating because… because…

A hand landed on her shoulder. She couldn’t remember what was supposed to come after “because.”

“Don’t hurt yourself like that. Here, let’s get you—”

Yoriko ate.

“Look at you. Wolfing your food down like that,” Mom had said. “No man likes a girl who eats like a pig. You have to learn some manners.”

Yoriko gulped, warmth rushing down her throat.

“And you eat too many sweets. I don’t care if you make them yourself! You’re already too heavy. When I was your age, I weighed twenty pounds less than that! Anything else is unacceptable.”

I’m sorry, Mom.

“From now on, no more cheesecake. You only get to bake that once a month. And don’t eat any more second helpings.”

You’re right, you’re right.

“I know this sounds harsh, but if you don’t hear it from me and learn now then everyone will be snickering behind your back for the rest of your life. Take it from me, dear—no one respects a woman who doesn’t know how to control her appetite, or who doesn’t have good table manners. They might not say it to your face, but they’ll never take you seriously.”

But this is so good. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me when this tastes so delicious.

“You won’t say that when no one will be friends with you and you die an old maid,” Mom had said. “Anyway, from now on, we’ll put you on a diet, okay? I’ll help you lose weight. You’ll feel better about yourself when you’re slimmer. Trust me.”

But all that had been years ago. Yoriko blinked. Mom, she tried to say, only to realize her mouth was full. She covered it, only to feel warm liquid smeared over her lips.

“You’ve done it again, haven’t you?” she could practically hear her mother’s stern voice, “Always stuffing yourself whenever you think no one’s looking.”

“Mmm,” she mumbled. She couldn’t remember where she was, or what she’d been doing. It registered slowly to her. She felt…good. Refreshed. Relieved. Like she’d just woken up from a painful nightmare. She blinked. It was dark. There wasn’t much light to see by. She felt her knees and palms against cobblestone. She was crouched on the ground like a dog, but somehow she couldn’t feel embarrassed. She swallowed, and a chunk of something slipped down her throat. In her mouth, a sweet taste lingered.

Breathing. Harsh, painful breathing. Not hers. She looked down. Glassy eyes looked back. A face. Tear tracks on its cheek shone in the dim light. The breathing slowed. It only took her a few moments to look and understand what she’d done.

“No…” she whispered, grabbing the shoulders underneath her own. “You’re—No… no… what did I…?”

The wheezing stopped. A slimy hand, one that she hadn’t noticed had been gripping her, slid down and dropped against the stone ground.

Yoriko screamed. She looked down, and saw it all—human stuffing. Intestines. Or what was left of them. Frantically, she scooped it up and tried to put them back in. “It goes here,” she said, her voice raising in pitch until it turned into a squeak, “It goes—it goes—! I can’t—I didn’t—I couldn’t have—!”

Her hands shook.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I so, so sorry…”

She called Touka without even thinking about it. The gesture had been as natural as the way one’s leg might kick out if their knee was hit. She’d had some idea of what she’d say, but hearing Touka’s voice made all that vanish.

Touka. Touka was telling her she could be peaceful. She sounded like she cared—like she genuinely cared. Like Yoriko deserved that kind of care. It was unreal to her, being spoken to like this when the ghoul wasn't her friend, and couldn't possibly care about her. Hadn't Yoriko screamed at her the night before? And hadn't Touka practically tossed her aside? She wondered if this was just some nice, comforting dream, but not comforting enough.

“It’s too late… I’m already a murderer…”

But for some reason, when Touka shouted at her that that couldn’t be true and that she needed to give Touka her location immediately, Yoriko caved in. She didn’t want Touka to come—but she didn’t feel like she could hang up or resist when someone yelled at her. Not right now. She curled up in the alley, bloodied and dirtied, and waited to be found.

When she heard footsteps, she curled up harder.

“Yoriko.”

“Don’t look at me,” Yoriko whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks, “Don’t come closer.”

Touka didn’t listen, of course, and Yoriko felt herself being pulled up.

“Who was that?” Touka asked, shining the light from her phone over the corpse, “You killed him?”

She barely managed to nod. She looked up shakily, trying to see Touka’s expression. She waited for some kind of mockery, waited for Touka to throw everything she’d said about eating people right back in her face. She didn’t. Her expression didn’t even seem harsh, just sad. Even in the darkness, she could see Touka struggling for words, for anything that might right the situation. Yoriko looked away.

A short ring cut through the silence. She heard Touka stiffen at the sound.

“Is that your phone?”

“No…” Yoriko mumbled. “It’s not yours?”

The ring again. Touka’s eyes flashed with understanding.

“Yoriko… that’s not your jacket you’re wearing, is it?”

Yoriko’s eyes widened at the observation, and she twitched. Her hands shot into the pocket and pulled out a phone.

“It’s—it’s his…”

“Gimme that,” Touka snatched at it, only for her to shy away.

“No!” she insisted. “Let me…”

Shakily, she swiped the screen. Two text messages, both from the same person.

You’re really late tonight.
When are you coming home?

Yoriko dropped her head. Suddenly, she was shaking and tears were rolling out again. “It’s… it’s… someone wants him to come home. I… I…”

“Give me the phone. You can’t hold onto that.”

She shook her head and gripped it instead, cradling it shakily. She heard Touka sigh.

“Okay. I’ll take care of the body.”

Yoriko gulped at the phrase. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s an entrance to the sewers nearby.” Touka started to scrape up the parts, “I’ll just drop the body in and the ghouls that normally roam there will finish it off, so you won’t have to worry about your DNA being linked to a murder scene.”

Yoriko’s hand slackened in shock. She dropped the phone. Her eyes widened at her friend. The sight of Touka picking up the body snapped her out of her stupor, though, and she hissed and grabbed at the ghoul.

“No! I won’t let you! I won’t let you!”

“You won’t let me?” Touka snapped, “And just how do you think you can stop me?”

She punctuated her point with a rough shove. Yoriko fell back to the floor. Undeterred, she crawled forward.

“I need to tell his family. I need to… they have to have people that care about them… who’d want a funeral… and you just want to toss the body away like leftovers?”

“What choice do we have?!” Touka yelled. “You can’t just leave a mess like this, not when you want to live a regular human life! It’s too much of a risk for the CCG finding out.”

“Who cares?” Yoriko gasped. “I don’t… I don’t deserve to live after this! I’m a murderer. I ate—! I…I need to be punished. His family… I deserve to be killed.”

She looked down. Touka was silent.

“So,” her classmate said, “What about me then? I’ve killed people. I’ve killed a lot more people than you have. So you’re saying that I should just give up right now and let myself be killed?”

“That’s not… that’s not what I meant…”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I mean… I can’t live with myself like this!” Her throated ached, “That person—that person saved me. He was good. He pulled me away from the train, and I returned the favor by killing him! How can I live with that? How can I live when I know his family will grieve and look for him? How can I live when I know they deserve to know what happened? That they deserve… justice? Doing something like this and getting away with it… that can’t be right!”

Another long silence. Yoriko heard a shuffle, and winced. She covered her head, wondering if Touka would strike her. Instead, her friend crouched to her level.

“Yoriko, look at me.” Touka’s voice was softer, but not gentle by any means. “Look at me.”

She felt her head pulled towards her friend’s face when she didn’t comply. Soon, she was looking right into Touka’s burning eyes, flickering with the dim light of the cell phone.

“So you think it’s wrong to take away someone from their family, huh? Well what about your family?”

Yoriko flinched.

“What about your Mom? What about your sister? Do you think they’ll be okay with you just up and disappearing?”

“That’s not…”

“Shut up!” Touka’s grip on Yoriko’s face tightened. “Tell me this: if you go and turn yourself into the CCG, will that make this corpse come to life again? Will it suddenly give him back to his family and friends? No. They’ve—if they even exist—they’ve already lost him. You killed him. Maybe you killed a good person. You fucked up. But you’re not gonna make that better by punishing yourself.”

Yoriko’s breath caught.

“You will never be able to make any of this better. Got that? But you know what you can do? You can fuck up even more by taking away someone else from a family that needs them—you. But then, I bet you don’t even care. You don’t even like them anyway.”

“Wh-what…?”

“That’s what it really is, right? You don’t give a damn about their feelings, or how they’d feel if you killed yourself! And I don’t blame you. Who would? Your mother’s the biggest cunt I’ve ever met, and your sister—”

“Shut up!” Yoriko screeched, throwing her hands around Touka’s throat. “Don’t you—don’t you dare!”

Touka snatched her hands, and pulled them down. Yoriko struggled, but she wasn’t a match for the ghoul’s strength. Soon, Touka was scarcely three inches away and Yoriko’s arms were pinned by her side.

“If you gave a damn about either of them, you’d live with your mistakes! You’d live with being a ghoul!”

“You don’t….that’s unfair…” Yoriko tried to free herself to no avail.

“Do you know, Sumiko came to talk to me? About some letter you wrote?”

Her heart stopped in her chest.

“Do you know she wanted to come with me? That she was going to run around out in the city after dark all by herself anyway?”

Yoriko’s face twisted.

“I bet she doesn’t have a lot of friends, huh? Do you know that she started crying?”

“Stop it.”

“Do you know what she said? She said that if you disappeared, she wouldn’t have anyone. Are you really gonna leave her alone like that? Can you imagine how she’d feel if you died?”

Yoriko let her limbs go limp.

“She’d be devastated. And your mother, too. I don’t know if she could take that.”

Yoriko looked down, unable to look into the ghoul’s furious eyes. “But-but I can’t live with them! I would… what if I hurt them?”

“You won't! Learn to eat when you need to, and you won't have to. And you’ll hurt them more if you don’t come back! Don’t you get it?”

What brought her eyes back up was a hitching breath, the beginning of a sob. In the tiny bit of light there was, Yoriko could see tears in Touka’s eyes.

“And me too, you know. If you died, I would be—I would be…”

Touka was crying: her shoulders hiccuped with held back sobs, and tears trickled out of her eyes. Her features trembled violently. It was unlike anything Yoriko had ever seen on that face. Yoriko found herself mirroring it, and she fell in Touka’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into Touka’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

They stayed like that for a while, two ghouls crying against each other in puddles of blood swimming with chewed flesh.

She couldn’t watch as Touka got rid of the body. Instead, she just sat silently in the corner, hugging herself. Touka returned, bloodied from her work and from eating what she couldn’t fit in her arms. Yoriko only hugged herself tighter.

“Here. Come on.”

Touka offered her a hand up. Yoriko took it.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Wait,” she said, taking off the jacket, “I need to… bury this.”

“That’s…”

“Please. I have to.”

Touka sighed. “Okay. I understand. But you can’t go around all bloody like that, so we need to clean you up first.”

She found an abandoned place by the river where no one was looking, and dug a place with a shovel Touka lent her. She put the phone and jacket in a sealed plastic bag before lowering it in the ground and burying it. Then, she placed a large stone over it to mark it. From there, she calculated the GPS coordinates and saved them as a text message to herself.

“It’s so I can visit,” she explained lifelessly.

“You don’t need to torture yourself like that,” Touka said.

She didn’t listen, but just collapsed on her knees, absentmindedly placing her hand over her ghoul eye. Her eyepatch was gone. The stranger had torn it off, it seemed, when she’d attacked him. She felt Touka stoop behind her and wrap her arms around her, and felt a hand wrap around her own wrist and slowing bring her hand down from her face.

“Come on. Let’s get you home,” Touka murmured.

It was morning of the next day when they finally made it back to her house. She practically leaned on Touka all the way, too exhausted to even want to move on her own. Her mother practically crushed her once she got in, sobbing as she held her.

“Where were you? Are you hurt?” Mrs. Kosaka demanded.

She knew, from Touka, that her mother hadn’t gotten the letter, so she took a breath and said the best thing she could think of.

“No, I’m not. I… I went out to get fresh air one night, but I felt dizzy and fainted. When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was. I was so confused, I couldn’t even remember my name. Touka found me and brought me back.”

It was one of the few lies she ever told her mother. Her mother accepted it so wholeheartedly that it made Yoriko twinge a little bit with guilt. When Touka turned to leave, Mrs. Kosaka stopped her.

“Miss Kirishima. I… I feel I must apologize for my behavior. I misjudged you. I’ve been very worried is all, and… and I’m not the best person in these kind of situations, but… I hope I haven’t caused you too much grief.”

Touka shuffled. “No problem, ma’am.”

“No, really,” her mother said, “Thank you. Thank you for bringing my girl back. I was so wrong. Please—feel free to ask for anything if you ever need it. You’re welcome here any time.”

Touka nodded a bit stiffly. “Thanks.”

Sumiko was quiet throughout everything. She didn’t hug; she’d never been the type to give hugs and had always reacted violently to people trying to give her one. She didn’t cry. Only, when they’d both gotten ready for bed Yoriko heard her sister quietly enter her room.

“Hey, Sumi,” Yoriko said, the words scratching at her throat.

Sumiko looked down, not saying anything for awhile.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry about everything… I’m sorry about the letter.”

Sumiko’s lips formed a tense, straight line. “What letter?” she asked, “I… there isn’t a letter.”

Yoriko paused and then nodded, understanding. “Alright.”

She saw her little sister blink rapidly, face still tense. “Will you… will you leave again?”

“No. Never.”

Sumiko nodded, still blinking. Yoriko could see the tears well up in her eyes. “Okay,” she mumbled, “Okay. Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

Yoriko smiled as best she could. “Of course.”

When she fell asleep, Yoriko dreamed of yellow, black, and green. She dreamed of raw pink and bleeding red. But mostly, she dreamed of a question, a voice. A soft, featureless voice—hardly a sound at all—that echoed through her soul with all the gravity of a thunderclap.

When are you coming home?

Chapter Text

Touka dreamt of Yoriko, of holding her in her arms just like she’d done in that alleyway. Except this time it wasn’t dark, but sunny, and they stood in the run-down park next to the apartment complex she and Ayato used to live at with Dad. The other girl’s hair and skin tickled the end of her fingertips. Touka found her arms tightening only for the girl to dissolve like fairy dust.

She lurched forward at the suddenly lack of contact, grasping, and woke up.

What a shitty dream.

It had been a deep, exhausted sleep, but she didn’t feel too good waking up. Her legs ached from all the running around, and her stomach still churned. Yesterday had been… something. Definitely a bad thing, she told herself, even if she was mostly relieved Yoriko was safe and sound back at her house.

She wondered if Yoriko would ever smile the gentle, dreamy way she had before. She might not. Seeing her like that, bloodied and ghoulishly desperate, had been hard to swallow, and it still left her a little uneasy inside. Something in her insisted that some fundamental law of the universe had been violated. Yoriko and the ghoul world were like two parallel lines, never to cross. But last night they had.

Yoriko was a ghoul. Yoriko had killed, just like she had. She didn’t know exactly how she should feel about all that.

She stretched, circling and loosening some of her stiff joints. She worked the early morning shift, so she didn’t have much time to sit around and twiddle her thumbs over everything. She dragged herself to the bathroom and started brushing her teeth.

She’s like me now. And she'll never get to criticize me after what she did. 

The thought made her stop brushing her teeth. Then, she promptly smacked herself at how disgustingly selfish that was.

Yoriko woke up with a tight chest and burning lungs.

“I didn’t mean to,” she blurted before she realized where she was. Then, she promptly covered her mouth and turned to see the tiny blanket cocoon on the floor. Sumiko—still asleep right where she’d plopped down on the floor last night. Her sister didn’t even stir at the sudden proclamation, so Yoriko relaxed, laying back down.

She didn’t realize she was falling back asleep until her mother opened the door.

“Yoriko? Sumiko? I made breakfast.”

Breakfast. That had to be disgusting human food. Yoriko wanted to roll over and refuse to eat, but then she saw her mother’s face, and remembered why she was even alive.

You don’t deserve to be here. You’re tainted. The only thing you’re good for is making them happy, so don’t you dare turn down your mother’s breakfast when she took time she could have been resting to make it for you.

“Thanks, Mom,” Yoriko said, her voice not carrying far. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay, but don’t take long or it’ll get cold.”

Her mother closed the door gently. Yoriko got up and crouched next to her sister.

“It’s time to get up, Sumi.”

There wasn’t a response, so Yoriko gently put a hand on her wrapped up shoulder. Sumiko jerked away under the blankets.

“It’s just me. You need to get up.”

Her sister groaned, but she sat up, rubbing her eyes and frowning.

“You shouldn’t have slept on the floor like that. There’s no way you can sleep properly. Next time, take the bed like I said to.”

Sumiko laid back on the floor at that, groaning again instead of answering. Yoriko trusted her to wake up on her own after that, so she stood up and headed to the bathroom. She heard her sister scramble up behind her. “Wait.”

Yoriko turned around. “Yes?”

Sumiko looked right in her eyes, opening her mouth. Then, she stopped, clamping it shut, and shook her head. “Nothing, never mind.”

“You sure?”

Sumiko nodded, and Yoriko went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She looked in the mirror, and smiled. It faltered, and her lip began to wobble, so she sucked in a deep breath. Her expression flattened out.

It would be a long day, and she’d have to get through it without crying in front of anyone.

She weakly grasped the mug and pulled it up to her mouth. She hesitated a while before sipping it, but once she did she stared at it in shock.

“I can… I can drink this?” she asked, “What’s in this coffee? It tastes…”

“It’s just regular coffee,” the old man—Yoshimura, Touka called him—told her. “It’s the only thing that humans and ghouls can taste and enjoy the same way.”

Yoriko felt like she’d cried way too much recently but she started to tear up again anyway. Behind the counter, Touka’s eyebrows knit together.

“I never liked coffee,” she mumbled, “But this is so good.”

“Perhaps your tastes have just changed with your transformation,” the old man said.

She looked nervously at the old man in the dim, after hours lighting of the shop. He was a ghoul, or so Touka told her. Still, his expression was so warm and kind. She wondered if he gave that smile to everyone, both ghouls and human, or if it was a nicer face to those of his own kind. Whatever the answer to that, she couldn’t help her shoulders from tensing up as she sat there.

“So… is this all?”

“Hm?”

“I mean… if I drink enough coffee, then I won’t have to… eat?”

She couldn’t help but lower her voice on the last word, shifting her eyes. They landed on Touka whose eyebrows furrowed even deeper.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” the old man said gently. “In order to sate your hunger, you will have to eat human flesh.”

She looked down. “Oh. Of course.”

Touka moved. Yoriko’s eyes immediately shot to her.

“I need to get going.”

“Wait!” she said, a little too desperately. “Can’t I… can’t I go with you?”

God, she was obvious. Needy. Touka must despise her. She could imagine what the girl was thinking of her now, even if she wasn’t low enough to say it out loud.

“You really need to talk to the manager more,” Touka said impassively. “And I need to go help Yomo with something.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, trying not to sound too tense.

Touka shuffled, as though she wanted to say something else important. “Um, I’ll be back in a while. See you.”

The door closed quietly as the girl exited. Yoriko looked back to the manager.

“So, um,” she shuffled. “Touka said that… this is where ghouls come if they don’t want to kill anyone?”

“Yes. That is one of the functions Anteiku serves.” The old man stood up. “Here. How about I show you around?”

They walked through the building after that, the old manager showing her different areas of the shop and different equipment while intercutting it with an explanation of the ghoul activities there.

“The coffee shop has become a meeting place for ghouls of all sorts, so you’ll run into the bad types here but generally speaking they won’t cause trouble here. Our policy here is to help out our fellow ghouls. This means that we also oversee the feeding grounds of the different ghouls that live in the 20th ward and mediate disputes over territory.”

“Feeding grounds? You mean…”

“The places that individual ghouls have claimed as their own. To hunt from.” He didn’t say to kill people in.

“You’re… you’re okay with that?” she asked.

“That way of living is not my own,” he said, “And I would prefer others to adopt non-violent methods of feeding. However, I am not in the position to demand so many different ghouls change something so crucial to the way they have lived. Instead, we here at Anteiku offer help, mediate things before they become too violent, and offer the peaceful option to anyone that wants it. If we tried to enforce our way on others, the result would just be more violence and chaos.”

She nodded, discontent but not saying anything else. The old manager showed her the rooms in the back, but she interrupted. “Um, so is everyone who comes here…? Are they…?”

“We have many human customers as well as ghoul ones. Of course, our human customers remain oblivious to our other activities.”

“So… why let humans come at all?”

The old man smiled, his face wrinkling more. “I find all kinds of people interesting. And it’s important to sell coffee to as many customers as possible while blending in.”
When they got back to the front of the shop, he gave a warm chuckle.

“I see you’re still afraid.”

She froze, fiddling with the strap of her handbag. “I—no, I… I mean, I don’t mean to be…”

“It’s alright. You’ve been through quite the ordeal recently, and you don’t know much about us. I’m not going to try and argue against your fear. That would be impossible. But still, I want you to know one thing: you are in a unique position. You have a place both in the world of ghouls and the world of humans. I want you to learn about us, to judge for yourself if we are really monsters.”

She nodded.

“With that in mind, I have a proposition for you. How would you like to work for Anteiku in exchange for us providing you the food you need?”

“Mom, I know it’s sudden, but I really want to work at Anteiku with Touka. The manager there offered me a job, and I thought it over the past few days. I think I need something else to do, something to keep me busy. So… please?”

I need to work there. I have to eat,  I have to pay them back, and I have to learn more about ghouls. Plus… Touka…

Her mother chewed her lip. “Right after you nearly fainted just from walking outside and got lost for a day and a half?”

“I’m better now. Honestly.”

I  know I said this before and it wasn't true, but it is this time. I ate someone. I’ll be good for a month.

“Definitely not,” her mother shook her head. “You think I’m going to believe that? After the way you’ve been acting since you were released from the hospital? After the way you’re acting now, with all the staring out the window and such?”

Yoriko looked down. Her mother sighed.

“Give it two weeks, at least,” Mrs. Kosaka said. “It would be good for you to have your own job, and maybe you’re right. Maybe it’ll help. Still, not yet. Two weeks from now, if all is well with your health, then you can start. Okay?”

She nodded, putting on the smile she hoped her mother was waiting for. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Hey, is this your girlfriend, Touka?”

Touka noticed Yoriko flinch at the sudden greeting and shrink a little closer to her. Part of her warmed at the gesture—she’s not going to avoid me—but she focused her attention on Koma, scowling at him. “Don’t make things sound weird.”

Koma grinned a little too widely at that. “Nice to meet you. Yoriko, is it? I’ve heard a lot about you recently.”

He bowed his head slightly to her. The hesitation written on Yoriko’s expression was painfully visible, but she returned the gesture with an empty-eyed smile. “Um, pleased to meet you too sir.”

“You should have heard this girl after you got in the hospital. I hadn’t known your name before, but suddenly everything was ‘Yoriko this’ and ‘Yoriko that.’ It was even better when you got out of the hospital though. ‘Why am I smelling that woman on her?’ ‘Where is that Rize anyway? I’m gonna kick her ass.’”

Touka felt her cheeks heating up at Koma’s falsetto imitation of her. She didn’t turn to meet Yoriko’s eyes when the other girl side-eyed her. Instead, she made a fist. “I’ll kick your ass. Right now, if you don’t shut it.”

“He’s right though,” Irimi chimed in from where she’d suddenly slunk into the room and started wiping the counters. “You should have seen her face when we informed her of the only way we knew for two people’s scents to cling—”

“Hey!” Touka snapped. “She doesn’t need to hear that. It wasn’t like that anyway.”

Irimi smirked. Yoriko was wide-eyed.

“Um, what exactly are you talking about?”

Yoriko’s mind is too pure, Touka sighed to herself. “Nothing. They’re just being stupid and they’re going to stop it right now before they weird anyone out or scare anyone off. Isn’t that right?”

She really didn’t appreciate the smirk the two shared at that. Bastards.

“It’s fine,” Yoriko said, giving a pale little laugh, a shadow of what Touka was used to from her, “I mean… I’m just glad no one’s… no one’s really someone with a body count or anything here. Um, yeah.”

…No one told her. She saw another look between Koma and Irimi.

“I am,” Irimi piped up. Her voice never sounded cheerful, but Touka could sense a little glee underneath. “And it’s a bigger one than the ol’ Devil Ape here.”

“Objection! In my time as the Devil Ape, I killed…”

“Shut up!” Touka said, “Just… quit it.”

Yoriko was back to wide-eyed and scared. “But… I thought…”

The mood had dropped from light and humorous to something that made Touka’s finger’s twitch in a matter of seconds. And all because those two didn’t know what jokes to keep to themselves. Touka opened her mouth to explain, but Irimi beat her to it, sighing and looking up from her work.

“Everyone here is peaceful. Now,” she said, “But we weren’t always this way. A lot of us have things we’ve done that we regret. But that’s in the past, now.”

Yoriko nodded. “I see.”

Touka heard her breathe as she sat down and leaned against her hand, absentmindedly rubbing her cheek with her index finger. Her eyes went dull and unfocused in a way that reminded Touka of that little sister of hers. Luckily, Irimi broke the silence.

“Anyway, I hear you’ll be working here in a while? That’s great! I’m sure Touka…”

“Shut it, right now.”

She didn’t know how to feel or act around Touka anymore. The girl had become something entirely different in her eyes, but she couldn’t say what yet. She wasn’t the girl she’d known during those carefree school days, but she wasn’t the deceptive monster she’d imagined when she’d first found out about her being a ghoul. What she’d seen of her recently had been violent, brutally uncaring towards the suffering of others. It made her antsy around her, fidgety and quiet. The air was heavy around her.
But at the same time, she found herself hurrying to her at school only to see her. They would meet up at school, sometimes without so much as a “good morning” and stick together the rest of the day with sparing conversation compared to before. Yoriko found herself looking to her every move, waiting for her to say something.

It was awful.

Still. Yoriko couldn’t quit it. Because however horrible it felt to be around Touka, it was suffocating with anyone else. Classmates, teachers, people on the street, even Sumiko and her own mother: their eyes were unbearable. She felt one day someone would look at her and just know. Then, everything would be over.

But Touka already knew. She had seen her in that alley, but had still wanted her to keep living. And even if Yoriko could swear she saw her expression hardening in contempt any time Yoriko tried to make friendly conversation, she still hadn’t tried to push her away yet. It was probably more out of pity than anything else, but it was the best Yoriko had.

So when she woke up, chest constricted and lungs burning for air, her first reflex was to call Touka again. She tiptoed over her sister’s still cocoon, trying desperately to smother own breathing, and walked into the halls, crouching on the floor. Somehow, Touka picked up. Yoriko gasped a bit more before she could talk.

“Yoriko?”

“I… I had a nightmare,” she breathed. She tried to keep her voice down but it jumped up scratchily. She quietly blessed Sumiko for being a heavy sleeper. She cringed at the silence that followed, smacking her own head as she realized that Touka was probably angry with her for waking her up in the middle of the night over something so trivial.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

“It was the alley. The man,” she gasped more between phrases. “But everyone was there. Everyone saw. And Mom and Sumi… they…”

Touka was silent on the other side of the phone.

“I-I know it’s silly… I’m sorry to bother you. But… I can hardly breathe. It hurts. I’m going to go crazy. I can’t take this… I can’t…”

“Do you want me to come over right now?”

“You… would?”

“Yeah. It’s not that far when I run.”

“Don’t. I don’t want to bother you too much. Just… say something to me? We haven’t… we haven’t really talked in so long.”

You’re always there, but I miss you.

“Uh… well…” she could hear the struggle in Touka’s voice. “Our English teacher still sucks. But you know that, so let me think. Do you want to hear about Anteiku customers? Two of our regulars ran into some trouble and are living at the shop now. A mother and a daughter. They’re peaceful, but recently…”

She listened as Touka spoke about the Fueguchis, about how the father of the family was a doctor and the wife was a sworn pacifist. The young girl, apparently, liked to read even though she’d never gone to school, and how she would piece together the meanings behind kanji to old, boring novels. Yoriko felt herself calming down.

“They sound like wonderful people,” she murmured.

“Yeah. I think you should meet them. You’d get along.”

She took a deep breath. Her lungs had stopped burning. “Touka… I’m sorry about all this.”

“It’s fine. It’ll all get better. You can call or whatever any time.”

She paused for a second. “Touka… I never said, ‘Thank you’ for all this, did I? I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in… everything. I just. Thank you. Thank you so much. If it weren’t for you I’d… be gone.”

Touka was quiet on the other side of the phone. Yoriko’s heart started thumping again. Was that too weird? She couldn’t qualify her feelings for Touka now, but before they’d definitely been—no, she hadn’t said anything wrong. Still, maybe her tone was the problem. Should she take it back…?

“Thanks,” Touka’s voice was rough as it cut off her thoughts. “I’m… glad. I don’t want you to be gone.”

“Thanks. That’s why I’m still here,” she said, regretting it immediately. The dead quiet on the other side of the phone made her gulp. “I mean, forget that. Just… I’m feeling better now. I’ll let you go.”

“Okay. You sure?”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

It wasn’t the end of Yoriko’s sleeping problems, and she certainly didn’t feel perfectly fine after that call. Still, it was better. She could breathe. When she clicked off the phone and snuggled back into her covers that night, she fell into the best she’d slept in a while.

Before, if she’d ever been feeling this terrible, she’d have gone straight for the cupboard the moment her mother wasn’t home and baked the sweetest recipe she knew before binging for the next hour. Now all she could do was hover around the kitchen, dissatisfied with the coffee she’d made but unable to do anything but gulp more down.
She really wanted something between her teeth. Comfort food. Something to chew and swallow and make her stomach feel full and her body warm. Coffee was good, but too liquid-y to fill that purpose, even with the “sugar cubes” the nice old manager had given her. Still, she sipped more, grinding her teeth in frustration once she’d swallowed.

It made making breakfast for Sumi such a pain. It had never been a chore to her before, but now the task made her restless. Still, she had a large, warm meal ready by the time her little sister came down the stairs, rubbing her eyes as she sat down.

“Good morning, Sumi,” she said, “You okay?”

“Mm,” was all Sumi said.

Sumiko had been sleeping on the floor of Yoriko’s room for a few days now. Yoriko had offered to give her the bed every night, only for Sumi to roll over on the floor quietly and not say a word back no matter how much air Yoriko wasted trying to convince her. She’d thought of picking her up and physically dumping her on the mattress, but she wasn’t sure how the younger girl would react and didn’t want to risk upsetting her.

“Maybe we can share the bed tonight,” Yoriko offered. “Like when we were kids.”

She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth. It might have been a good idea before, but somehow she’d managed to forget that she was a ghoul now, and might hurt her sister if she thrashed during a nightmare.

Luckily, Sumiko frowned at the offer. “Mm. No.”

“You really need to get more rest. You can’t just sleep on the floor forever.”

Sumiko blinked, then settled into a very unhappy expression, but directed it more at the table than at her. “Fine. I won’t come in again if that’s what you want.”

“Sumi… that’s not what I said. I’m fine with you staying in my room, you just…”

But her sister’s eyes had glazed over with the look they got whenever she wasn’t listening. Yoriko sighed, and drank more coffee. Sumiko looked up at that, eyes focusing again.

“What’s that?”

“Coffee…” Yoriko said hesitantly.

“I thought you hated coffee.”

“Um… it wasn’t so bad when I tried it again recently.”

Sumiko’s eyebrows furrowed, thinking. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you… would you…” she stopped, eyes going dull again. “Forget it.”

“Huh?”

“Just… never mind.”

That night, Yoriko came home to find all Sumiko’s blankets moved out of her room. Her sister had gone back to her own room. Yoriko slept alone, but not until she’d stared at her ceiling sleeplessly for a few hours, wondering if her sister was angry.

Sumiko would come in the next day, sitting on her bed and asking to play games on her phone, but not staying past bedtime.

Hinami, as it turned out, was about Sumiko’s age. The two were as different as night and day, though. Hinami’s eyes, even though mistrustful, shone in a way that Sumi’s didn’t. She looked directly at people, and as Touka introduced them Yoriko could see every different thought and feeling forming with the expressions of her face. Every movement had energy behind it that Sumiko seemed to lack.

“You’re big sister’s friend?”

“Yes. That’s right,” Yoriko smiled. “She’s told me about you a bit. You’re a really hard worker, huh? Reading all those books without even going to school. I bet you’ve read more than I have.”

Hinami didn’t smile, but her eyes widened a little at the compliment. Yoriko could see the struggle and uncertainty there. She’s a really suspicious girl. I wonder what happened to her to make her like this?

“What’s that you’re reading right now?” she said, sitting down beside her.

When Hinami hesitated, her mother broke in gently.

“It’s called Monochrome Rainbow, isn’t it dear? Why don’t you show the nice young lady some of the stories you read?”

“Um, okay,” the girl flipped through. “It’s by…”

But Yoriko had already looked down and read the author’s name. Takatsuki Sen. The author Rize liked. She’d… she’d seen this book in Rize’s bag, right next to The Black Goat’s Egg. The reminder caused her to pause.

“Miss?” Hinami asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine,” she shook her head. “Can you tell me about the stories?”

A shiver ran up her spine, and it was like Rize’s cool fingers.

Touka thought it would be a good thing for Yoriko to accompany Yomo on one of the food runs. She’d thought she’d seen something like suspicion cross her friend’s face every time she’d insisted that they didn’t kill anyone to get food. Going on the food run with Yomo would clear up that suspicion, she thought, and give Yoriko confidence that she could live a good life even as a ghoul.

Instead, when Yoriko came back she was clearly close to tears, shaking all over. She exchanged a look with Yomo, but the man shrugged in a way that seemed to say, “I don’t know anything.”

“Yoriko?”

“Suicide victims?” the blonde girl squeaked. “I thought… I thought you said…”

“What? I told you, we don’t kill anyone. Those guys are already dead, by their own choice too. It’s best for everyone.”

“No it’s not…” Yoriko whimpered, wiping her eyes. “They… what will their families think? Shouldn’t… should they know? And people who’ve killed themselves… that’s so horrible.”

It was surprisingly close to what she’d said in the alley. Touka grit her teeth, trying to calm herself down. “Well, it’s the best we’ve got. We don’t hurt anyone, and we don’t end any more life. Anyway, do you know how many of us ghouls get to bury people and sit around acting all weepy over them until we feel better? None! We got that peaceful way of living you want, but I guess that’s not good enough for you, Ms. Perfect! Like you can talk, when you—”

But she regretted it already, because Yoriko wasn’t saying anything, just sniffling and covering her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yoriko, just…” She clenched her jaw and curled her fists, looking away. Damn, it pissed her off, being made to feel like she should apologize this quickly after saying something.

“I don’t have a choice if I want to live, right?” Yoriko asked, voice strangled. “I know. I know. But… I’m still… suicides?”

She shook her head. Touka looked to Yomo for help, but the man just shook his head.

“Kosaka,” he said gruffly, “No one can tell you whether to feel guilt, or how to cope with these things. But this is simply the price of being a ghoul. There is no changing it. Sometimes, life is a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils.”

Yoriko nodded, still covering her eyes. Soon Yomo left to deposit the bag, and Touka approached her. Her hands fumbled for a moment as they hovered in front of Yoriko, unsure of what to do. She settled on placing her hands on Yoriko’s wrists, pulled them away from her eyes.

“Hey,” she said. “It is sad, not getting to have a funeral and stuff. I get it. But you know that your life is worth more than some random family feeling a little sad, right? Life is what matters. You won’t throw yours away just because you might make some people feel bad, right? Right?”

She gave Yoriko’s wrists a slight jerk to punctuate her point. The girl nodded listlessly. “Yeah. Sure.”

Touka let go. “Good.”

Yoriko was worse the next time she came in. Her eyes—or rather, eye, the one that wasn’t covered with an eyepatch—were bleary and unfocused. When Touka looked closely, she could see the red veins running through the white tissue and dark bags forming under them. Her shoulders were already tense, but whenever there was a loud noise they practically jumped to her ears.

Touka felt like sitting her down and rubbing her shoulders until she’d eradicated every knot in Yoriko’s muscles. Her fingers twitched at the image, but she didn’t offer. Instead, she just sighed. “You should relax. I’m getting sore just from looking at you.”

“Oh… sor—”

“Don’t apologize, geez. It’s just some advice.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Yoriko’s meekness was starting to tick her off. The way she was acting made it impossible for Touka to behave normally without feeling like she was kicking a puppy. Still, she couldn’t do anything about it. Her friend was fragile in general and even more vulnerable after killing someone for the first time. There wasn’t any changing that. Touka just happened to be the sort of person that was bad at handling fine china.

She shoved her hands in her pocket. “Come on. We have to go visit someone.”

Yoriko nodded and followed her outside without a word, so she found herself filling up the silence with chatter.

“It’s for a mask,” she explained as she walked. “It’s important to have one, so that if you’re doing some sort of ghoul activity and an investigator comes by, they won’t know who you are. Not that I think you’ll be doing much hunting or anything, but… well, you can never be too careful. Yoshimura said you should have one. The guy who makes them is weird, but you don’t have to worry about anything. He won’t try to hurt you or anything.”

If she thought she was jumpy before, then she was absolutely terrified in the mask shop. Uta’s little trick under the sheet made Yoriko go so pale that for a moment Touka braced to catch her if she fainted. When she left to give the two some space while Uta took face measurements, she practically thought Yoriko was going to grab her to make sure she couldn’t leave.

“Relax,” Touka said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Which wasn’t exactly true. She didn’t leave the room, but she did move away so that she could hardly hear their voices, focusing instead on the masks. Uta liked to talk to his customers one on one, she knew, so it was best to let him work that way. Still, she couldn’t help but hear tiny bits of the conversation come her way.

“So, that’s the sort that you’re into?”

“I… I don’t know what you mean?”

Some whispering, followed by a shrill shriek that was impossible to mistake.

“Th-that’s entirely private!” It was Yoriko, clearly upset. “It’s—well, it’s none of your business, is what it is.”

After that, she couldn’t hear anything but more mumbles— she could make out something about Rize, different mask preferences—and then Yoriko was nearly bolting out of the shop door. When she looked to see Uta’s face, she could tell he was enjoying himself too much.

“Bring her back sometime. It was interesting.”

The only thing that Yoriko said when they were outside was, “He had a-a-!” she waved her hand in front of her eye.

“Yeah, he never turns off his kakugan.”

“That’s not what I mean! He ate an eyeball!”

“Oh. Yeah, he likes those.”

Yoriko looked sick. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself. “I don’t think I like him.”

Touka shrugged. “He’s not a bad guy.”

“He’s weird. There’s something wrong about him. I just…” she shook her head, frowning more deeply. “He scares me.”

“Yeah, well everything scares you,” Touka blurted out before she could stop herself. She promptly looked away, shoving her hands in her pockets and making sure she didn’t get more kicked-puppy eyes. “Anyway. Let’s get back before your mother freaks about you being out five minutes after your curfew.”

“Please don’t talk about my mother like that,” Yoriko said under her breath. Touka felt like kicking herself or something around her. Damn it, what did I say that was so bad?! No matter what I say she acts like this!

Still, she ignored it and they walked back to Anteiku. For a moment, Touka looked down and felt like grabbing her friend’s hand, but the impulse vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.

Yoriko adjusted her eyepatch in the mirror, and gave her uniform was last look-over, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. She ran her hand through her hair, trying to even it out. All of this was stalling, she knew, but she just needed a few more minutes before she went out. Once she went out there, things would be expected of her. The kind of manager had said work was therapeutic, but right now she was so nervous she figured that had to be a lie.

Still, she took a deep breath and walked out.

“Looking good, kiddo!” Koma said.

“That uniform fits perfectly huh?” Irimi chimed in.

“Go out there and give them hell. Or, you know, a nice smile and a good cup of coffee.”

Yoriko lowered her head under all the positivity. Irimi and Koma were so nice. She had trouble believing them, believing that it all wouldn’t turn out to be some kind of trick on their part, but for a moment she could let herself enjoy it. “Thanks. I will.”

In a few minutes, the shop had opened. A black-haired boy shuffled in, clutching a shoulder bag. Yoriko turned to him, the smile on her face bright but stiff like a clay mask.

“Welcome to Anteiku!”

Chapter Text

She and her mother spoke after dinner, when Sumiko had gone back up to her room and they were both cleaning up the kitchen. Yoriko had just finished wiping down the table when she sat down, taking a deep breath and letting the quiet settle into her.

An ordinary evening. A family meal. Cooking with her mother and cleaning up afterward. It was an evening just like any of the ones before Yoriko had killed someone and chewed on his guts. Everything was clean, white. Yoriko thought her eyes might burn.

“Honey… don’t you think it’s time you stopped wearing that thing?” her mother asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Yoriko twitched. “What do you mean?”

Her mother huffed, continuing to scrub the dishes. “You know what I mean. You’re fiddling with that eyepatch thing right now.” Yoriko’s hand snapped away from it nervously. Her mother must have seen in her doing it in the reflection of one of the glasses. “Why do you even wear it? And don’t give me something about having a cut on your eye. It’s been too long for something like that not to have healed.”

“I just…”

“Anyway, it makes you look silly. And a little creepy, like you’re trying to be one of those anime characters.”

“Please. It makes me feel better to have it on.”

Her mother turned to give her a hard look over her shoulder, but sighed. “Fine. But if there’s something really wrong with your eye, then you should tell me. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She turned back around and started washing dishes again. It was a while before her mother spoke again, voice soft. “I feel like you never tell me anything nowadays. Like you don’t trust me anymore.”

“Mm-hm,” Yoriko said absentmindedly before shaking her head. “I mean, no! No, of course I trust you! I just…”

I’m a murderer. I’m a ghoul. I’m a cannibal; I ate someone. She looked at her mother’s taut shoulders and wondered what her mother would say if she admitted to what she’d done. What she was. Instead, she shook her head. “There’s really nothing.”

“I understand,” her mother said. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me.”

Yoriko blinked a moment, thrown by how her mother blatantly ignored what she just said. Still, she nodded and tried to keep her tone bright. “Yeah, sure.”

She turned to leave, only for her mother to stop her.

“One more thing,” Mrs. Kosaka said, lightly and in an almost sing-song voice. “Why don’t you invite that friend of yours over sometime?”

“Oh. Mm-hm.”

Yoriko dreamed of yellow, green, and black again that night.

When Yomo started attacking her, she thought she’d die. She’d been hesitant when he asked her to come somewhere, and had only followed because she’d remembered the respectful way he’d folded his his hands and prayed over the bodies he’d been collecting that day she’d been with him. She’d thought then that, for a ghoul, he must be a good person. That judgment was forgotten the moment he started to direct punches at her.

“Please stop!” she said, “Don’t hurt me!”

He’ll eat me. Her mind raced. He brought me out here to kill me and eat me. Of course he would. Other ghouls won’t see me as a real ghoul. They all see me as food. Have to run. Have to beg. Have to…!

She froze, and a harsh kick connected to her stomach. The wall was meters away from her back, but somehow she slammed into it. When she’d recovered, she saw Yomo looking down at her. His expression wasn’t especially cruel, just detached.

“Yoshimura told me to train you,” he explained. “Now that you’re a ghoul, at some point you’ll have to fight. From now on, we’ll train on the days after you work.”

“Wait! No!” She threw up her arms to shield herself. “I’m not ready for this. Some other day…”

“We don’t get to pick when we have to fight,” he said simply, “I apologize for this, but it’s better for you to learn such lessons now.”

That was the last of the apologies.

Yoriko couldn’t block, couldn’t punch, couldn’t kick, couldn’t dodge, and couldn’t even run away fast enough. When she was too exhausted to run away, he stopped to make her re-adjust her stance and show her proper form. Then it began again.

It wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever endured. Still, getting beaten down and thrashed against the floor repeatedly made her brain shut down, and her limbs go numb. She could tell Yomo was frustrated with her: she wasn’t improving from the training, her stance was simply getting sloppier and her strikes weaker. Still, he wouldn’t let her rest, not until they’d trained for hours and Yoriko was sure every inch of her body had been beaten.

Her kagune didn’t come out. That was fine, or so he told her. She needed to learn this sort of fighting first.

She was only glad that she healed fast enough that she didn’t have to hide any bruises from Mom or Sumiko.

“But I don’t want to fight anyone,” she told Yoshimura. “I never wanted to fight anyone. I don’t—I can’t become someone who gets into fights."

Yoshimura hummed thoughtfully. “I understand. But having the power to fight back isn’t the same as being someone who hurts other people. Now that you’re one of us, I can guarantee that there will be others who will try to hurt you. It’s not wrong to be able to fight back, not so you can kill them, but so you can hold off until you get away or get help.”

She frowned. “But… but you didn’t warn me. You can’t just…”

“I’m sorry it upset you. I asked Yomo to teach you, not for him to surprise you like that. But that is his teaching style, I suppose. You should learn from him, because it will guarantee you have the skills you need. However, if that is truly your choice, I will tell him to stop teaching you.”

She looked down.

“At the very least, you should speak to Touka about it. I’m sure her viewpoint would be valuable…”

“I’ll do it!” Yoriko blurted, cutting him off. “Just, can you tell me stuff like that first? I don’t like being… set up.”

“I see. I’ll remember that for the future.”

She couldn’t shake off the discontent she had with the fighting lessons. She didn’t know why she didn’t quit, but something made her drag herself along with Yomo every time she came.

Her mother tore her hair out when Yoriko told her she’d be staying at Anteiku after dark some nights. It took an hour of convincing to get her to agree to it, and then only on the condition that Yoriko texted her status every hour and reassured her of her location.

Yoriko looked worse every day. Touka started to see the bags under her eyes deepen, her shoulders got thinner underneath her clothes. Her movements were slow and sloppy at work, even if she managed to stop herself from breaking anything or messing up any orders. She seemed sick, though that should be impossible for a ghoul. Whenever she had a break at work or school, Touka could see her eyes glazing over.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Yoriko would say whenever she tried to broach the subject of the suicide corpses, or anything for that matter. “I’m fine.”

But she kept getting paler, her movements slower. Every time her shift was ending and Yomo came, she’d tense up. Maybe the training was too much, Touka thought. Maybe she should get them to quit it. She’d thought it’d help at first, but Yoriko just seemed to be slowly cracking underneath the pressure.

She doesn’t have to learn to protect herself, a stubborn part of Touka said, I can protect her.

But if she was really honest with herself, she didn’t know. She didn’t know if she’d be there the moment someone hurled a kagune or quinque at Yoriko. She didn’t know if she’d be there the moment Yoriko needed someone to throw themselves in front of her. So anytime the thought of stopping the training came to her, it died almost as quickly.

“Will you be okay?” she asked one day when they both had a break and they were taking a breath of fresh air in the alley behind the coffee shop.

Yoriko nodded. “Yeah. Things are just… hard now. It’s…” she frowned, and swallowed a gulp that looked painful even to look at.

“What?” Touka asked. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s just… everything’s so much the same as it was before. Mom. Sumiko. Everyone at school. It’s all the same. It’s like nothing happened, but… to me? I feel like the world ended. And then I see everyone being the same, and it’s… hard.”

The girl’s upper body sagged.

When Hinami opened up, it was like watching a flower burst from a shy bud into full bloom. Yoriko saw it the moment it became clear that the younger girl could use her as a means of learning more difficult kanji. Once it was a matter of that, the younger girl’s eyes shone so brightly Yoriko was also taken aback at their energy.

They ended up sitting in Touka’s room for hours as Touka was working and Mrs. Fueguchi was cleaning, deciphering more and more kanji. She didn’t know why. The tutoring was a tiresome activity, the kanji was often beyond even Yoriko’s knowledge, and it meant more time away from home. Still, she did it with all the cheer she could muster. Why? She didn’t know.

Maybe it’s Touka. Maybe it’s the way she smiled around Hinami. Maybe it’s because when she smiles like that I feel like she’s not so different from the person I thought she was.

Yoriko shook the thought from her mind, and turned her attention back to the stories that she had once seen Rize enjoy. She frowned a little at a particularly gruesome line.

“These are the sort of stories you like?” she asked Hinami.

“Mm-hm!” the girl replied brightly. “Is it unusual for humans to read this stuff?”

She paused. But she promptly shook her head. “No. Some humans like this stuff too, otherwise it wouldn’t sell. Besides, I know my little sister really likes gruesome things. She talks to me about them sometimes: bugs, weird ways people have died, gh—I mean, serial killers. Stuff like that. Mom hates it. One time she even…” Yoriko stopped, shaking her head. “But you don’t want to hear about that.”

Hinami was wide-eyed. “You have a little sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Is she my age?”

Yoriko paused, the smile dropping from her face. Sumiko was about the same age as Hinami, actually. And Hinami, it seemed, didn’t know any girls or boys her own age. Sumiko didn’t have any friends either.

“Yes, she is. I didn’t think about… That.”

Hinami’s eyes lit up. “Can I meet her?”

Yoriko didn’t have anything to say. Hinami was a sweet girl. But the thought letting Sumiko come over to meet her sent shivers up her spine. She looked toward Mrs. Fueguchi, hoping for disapproval but the woman smiled genuinely.

“That would be lovely! Could you bring her over sometime? Hinami has never had other children her age to play with.”

Yoriko’s heart sank. “Well… she’s very shy, and she has school.”

“Well she could come on the weekend, couldn’t she? Human school is out on those days.”

“It’s just…”

She didn’t finish the sentence in front of the Fueguchis but blurted her misgivings to Touka the first chance she got.

“…she’s human. That can’t be a good idea, right?”

And it was stupid of her. Because the second she said that, she saw Touka’s face darken and realized: a human and a ghoul being friends. That’s what we were, weren’t we?

She wanted to take it back, to assure Touka that she didn’t mean she was regretting being friends with her, but it was already too late. Touka barked at her.

“What, you think Hinami will attack her? Hinami? She’s just a child—geez. Do you just assume every ghoul eats any human they come across? What do you take us for, animals?” Touka folded her arms. “Whatever, it’s not like your sister’s good enough for her anyway.”

That made Yoriko straighten out. “Excuse me?”

“Your sister is so socially stunted that it’s not even funny. Hinami is the sweetest, most sensitive kid in existence. You put them together and it’s be an utter disaster, because your sister would mess everything up.”

“What did Sumiko ever do to you?” Yoriko replied, “I’m sorry if I upset you, but saying things about my sister like that is really unfair. Anyway, you can’t be sure of that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Who are you to judge Sumi like that? You don’t know anything about her! And anyway—”

The meeting between Hinami and Sumiko was, like Touka predicted, an utter disaster.

She practically dragged Sumiko to the café the next day she worked, jittery and snappy about the whole thing. She pushed down the instinct to change her mind, grab her sister, and drag her back home and focused on the stubbornness is proving Touka wrong. Whether she wanted to prove Touka wrong about herself or about Sumiko was something she didn’t bother analyzing.

She could tell Sumiko was in a bad mood to start out with, but ignored it, hoping her sister would warm up if there weren’t too many people around.

“Why can’t I just stay home? I won’t get to hang out with you anyway if you’re working.”

“There’s someone else I want you to meet. A girl your age. Be nice to her, okay?”

“Why do I have to meet her?”

“Because, it’s important you socialize, okay? You need to make friends.”

She saw the skin around Sumi’s eyes tighten. “You sound like Mom.”

She had to leave Hinami and Sumiko alone for a few hours while she worked, and felt a pit of worry form in her stomach the entire time. She tried to brush it off, telling herself that the Anteiku folks were good people, and that it would be impractical for them to have acted this way this long just to fool her into bringing her sister over.

When she and Touka were finished, the two younger girls were in separate rooms. Sumiko was flipping through a book quietly in a corner, and Hinami was crying.

“She hates me! I don’t know what I did, but she’s mean!”

Touka gave her a look. Luckily, though, she had the grace not to say, “I told you so.” Instead, she went immediately to Hinami’s side with a tissue.

“She probably didn’t mean it… whatever she did,” Yoriko mumbled.

“What did she do anyway?” Touka asked.

They listened to the whole thing. Hinami asked to call her “Sumi” and apparently the other girl had glared at her and told her “No.” She tried to sit down next to her, but Sumiko got up and sat far away. She tried to ask about books when the other girl started to read, but Sumiko had just said, “If you like reading you can read right now.” And then, whenever Hinami had tried to make conversation after that, Sumiko hadn’t answered.

Yoriko stormed to the other room. Her sister looked up once she saw her.

“Can we go now?”

“No,” Yoriko said, “We’re not leaving until you apologize to Hinami.”

Sumiko blinked. “But I didn’t do anything.”

“If by 'not anything' you mean deliberately ignoring her when she was trying to be nice, then you’re right. That’s a big insult to people. Hinami is so upset she’s crying.”

“She’s probably faking it then,” her sister said flatly, “No one would really cry over something like that. She probably just wants attention.”

“Sumiko,” Yoriko grit her teeth. “Just because you don’t care about certain things doesn’t mean that other people don’t. Okay? Now, you’re going to go there, you’re going to look her in the eyes, and you’re going to apologize.”

“You sound like Mom again,” she muttered.

“I don’t care. You need to learn that other people have feelings besides yourself. Now get up, and don’t you dare give her that face when you’re apologizing!”

Sumiko barely managed to flatten out the scowl over her expression. She followed, and they both stopped when they entered the other room to find Hinami sniffling against Touka’s shoulder. Sumiko’s apology was stiff, and obviously forced, but Yoriko figured it was all she’d get out of her. They left without another word.

Sumiko was quiet on the way home. Yoriko hoped she was thinking over her actions a little. It wasn’t until they reached the front door that she spoke up.

“Can I go back to Anteiku sometime?”

Hinami was still devastated the next day when Yoriko came in for work. Touka knew; after all, she had to try to cheer the girl up in the morning at her mother’s behest. She couldn’t believe the questions Hinami had in the morning.

“Am I ugly? Is that why she wouldn’t look at me?”

Touka frowned. “No, of course not! You’re a very pretty girl, Hinami. Don’t you even think that.”

“Then do I smell bad? Did I say something weird? Did I act wrong?”

Touka could hear the plea under her question: Is it because I’m a ghoul?

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Yoriko’s sister is just stupid and weird, and Yoriko knows it. Nothing’s your fault.”

She gave Hinami a hug and a cup of coffee along with a promise that she’d make friends in the future. It was almost a lie—the chances of her making friends in her current situation were slim and Touka couldn’t actually convince herself it was bound to get better—but it was a half-truth she could hardly feel bad about considering how anything else would have sounded,

Yoriko was quiet and still stiff in the shoulders when she came in for her shift. Touka didn’t know how to greet her. For a moment she hesitated, wondering if things would be more awkward. Then, a look into each other’s eyes and a shared sigh cleared the air.

“Sorry about Sumiko,” Yoriko said, shaking her head, “I should have known. And to think I was worried about her… I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you’re the one who made her cry,” Touka said, blowing a bit of hair out of her face. “Seriously, what’s wrong with your sister?”

“Nothing,” Yoriko said defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with her.”

“You sure about that?”

She could see Yoriko grind her jaw together. “Yes. I’m sure. Just, ever since…” she waved her hand as though encompassing everything she was about to say, and then making it vanish before sighing. “Never mind.”

Touka narrowed her eyes, then shrugged. “Well, whatever. As long as she doesn’t come here and wreck everything with Hinami again.”

“Um, yeah I think that would be best.”

Touka turned to keep polishing glasses, when she heard Yoriko shuffle awkwardly behind her.

“You’re not mad? At me, I mean?”

Touka stopped. “For…?”

“For... everything.”

“No,” Touka lied, focusing her gaze on the glasses. She was mad. She’d barely stopped herself from frothing with rage a few days ago when Yoriko had even suggested harm might come to her stupid sister when she was at Anteiku.

You don’t want your sister to meet ghouls… what are you trying to tell me, Yoriko?

There was an implication there, and it hurt. She had punched straight through her pillow that night after hearing it. When she’d calmed down, though, she’s decided it was fair. What had being involved with ghouls brought Yoriko besides misery? Of course she’d feel that way. They were friends—Touka was reassured of that every time Yoriko ran to her at school—and they weren’t going to stop being friends any time soon, but perhaps it would have been better for them both if they hadn’t been.

It was true, but it still pissed her off. Not that she’d say so. Not when Yoriko was so distraught over everything else.

The day passed normally after that. It wasn’t until Yoriko’s shift was almost over that Touka said, “How about I take care of things here? I think you should go talk to Hinami before you go with Yomo. She’s really depressed.”

Yoriko nodded. “Mm.”

She watched as the girl walked away, and busied herself with clean-up. A shriek from upstairs drew her out of her task.

“Pfft,” Touka scoffed. What now? She put the glass she was polishing on the counter and walked up the stairs. She saw Yoriko, red-faced, standing outside the door of Hinami’s room and gesturing wildly. She wondered if she’d caught the younger girl eating. “Alright, what’s—?”

The second she turned to look into Hinami’s room, she stopped. Yoriko’s brat sister was in Hinami’s room, sitting right next to her on the couch, and both of the Fueguchis were smiling.

“Hi, Touka,” Sumiko mumbled.

Touka turned to Yoriko. “I thought we agreed your brat little sister wouldn’t come back here.”

If Yoriko looked angry before she was furious now. Stomping her foot and clenching her fists. “Don’t say things like that in front of her!”

“Oh don’t worry, I let her in,” Mrs. Ryouko said, calmly diffusing the situation, “She said she wanted to apologize. Anyway, the two have been getting along, so I don’t see the harm.”

Touka watched Yoriko run her hands through her own hair and almost pull it out. “There’s plenty of harm here! Sumi! I told you not to come back here!”

“That’s why I knocked on the side door.”

“Mom will kill us!”

“She probably hasn’t even noticed I’m gone.”

“Yes, she definitely has!”

“She would have called you immediately if she’d noticed. She probably just thinks I’m reading in my room.”

Touka swept her eyes from Yoriko, to Mrs. Ryouko, to Hinami. The younger girl caught her eye and spoke up.

“Please don’t be angry at her,” Hinami said, “I’m glad she came over. It was nice today.”

Touka looked at Sumiko’s dull, stupid face and wondered how a few hours with her would ever be fun. Still, if Hinami was okay, that’s all that mattered.

“That’s…” Yoriko sighed, “Okay, but you can’t just sneak around like this. You could have…”

Yoriko flashed her eyes to Touka’s, and Touka understood. She could have seen something—like a body—and then everything would turn to shit. Touka felt herself stiffen at the thought.

“Anyway, I’ll take you home now. Tell Yomo I can’t come today, Touka”

“I can walk by myself. Who’s Yomo?”

“It’s after dark, and we’re going home. Now.”

The two left, Yoriko all but pushing the younger girl out the door in front of her. The bell rang as the door closed behind them.

Touka didn't get a chance to talk to Mrs. Ryouko until Hinami had fallen asleep, and the older woman had stepped onto the balcony to look at the stars.

“You’re really gung-ho about all this. Inviting her in. You’re not worried she might find out and blow Hinami’s cover?”

“Things like this are important for Hinami,” Mrs. Ryouko said, “She hasn’t had any friends, barely interacts with others her age, and interacts with humans even less. But she needs to. She needs to know how to act around human girls. The sooner, the better. And since you know Yoriko, this is probably the best way to start.”

“Why? She doesn’t need the hassle of pretending all the time. Not yet, at least.”

The woman smiled. “But she does. I want her to have a peaceful life, a blessed life. One where she’s not afraid to make friends with humans. I guess I’m saying… I want her to have a life like yours, Touka.”

That made her freeze.

“I saw how you and Yoriko are around each other. I see the way you two are and I think, ‘My… how wonderful.’ Despite your differences, you two are so close and caring. I want that for Hinami. I want her to have someone like that, human or ghoul. And I want her to see humans as more than food, to see them as the people they are even if it hurts to understand what we do.”

Touka was still frozen. “I—you…”

It’s not that simple.

But instead of voicing her objections or listing all the problems with Yoriko, she nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“What did you two do?”

“Nothing really,” Sumiko turned to look up at her from where she’d sat down on the floor, her back against the bed. “I just asked her how I could make her feel better and that made her really happy for some reason. Then, she just talked a lot about books and we played a card game.”

“Do you like Hinami then?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Why did you go over then?”

Sumiko leaned her head against the bed. “Yesterday, when she was crying, I felt…” she frowned. “I mean, you were really angry at me, and stuff. I just… didn’t want to feel like a bully. It feels bad to think you’re a bad person.”

Yoriko nodded. She clutched her pillow to her chest.

“Yeah… it does.”

Dinner with Yoriko’s family was the dumbest thing Touka had ever agreed to. She wanted to kick herself for agreeing so quickly just because of Yoriko’s earnestness when she’d asked. She knew that Mrs. Kosaka was just waiting to tear her to shreds via some sort of human passive-aggressiveness. Still, she ended up coming.

The biggest surprise was that Mrs. Kosaka was incredibly courteous and accommodating. She smiled warmly once Touka came in, served everything herself and made every effort to create conversation without forcing it.

“So what are your plans for the future then?” the woman asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re planning on going to college, aren’t you?”

Touka’s throat closed, because she hadn’t been and that would make her sound uneducated to a human, but Mrs. Kosaka reassured her with a smile.

“I understand if you haven’t given it a thought. It’s not something I thought about much at your age. Of course, you should go. Anyone will tell you that. But it’s okay if you don’t have a plan yet, and don’t let any pushy teachers tell you otherwise. Do you have any interests?”

“I…” she looked to Yoriko, sitting beside her. “Yeah. Um, I like math and history. I mean, I’m better at that than English. And… martial arts.”

She couldn’t believe how absolutely delighted and interested Mrs. Kosaka managed to look at hearing new things about her. It was fake. It had to be fake, she told herself. But it looked so genuine that Touka had trouble seeing the old, pinched-face Mrs. Kosaka she’d gotten used to. As the night went on, she felt herself relax.

“You look a lot like your mother,” Touka said when they both head outside at the end of the night. “I never noticed before.”

“Yeah. We’re a lot alike.”

“Pfft, I wouldn’t go that far,” she mumbled. “Anyway, it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

“Sorry about the food. I just… I know it’s bad, but I thought my Mom would be really upset if she thought you were avoiding her invitation. And I really don’t want her to be mad at you again, so—”

“Yeah, I get it. Don’t worry about it. I’m a pro at faking that stuff.”

Yoriko grimaces. “Sorry.”

“No! That’s not what I meant. You didn’t… I mean, my dad taught me how to pretend eat human food when I was little. He’d cook up big meals for us and have us eat them, along with anything the neighbors offered us. He said it was important to share meals with humans, to bond with them that way.”

“He sounds like my dad,” Yoriko mused, a smile on her face. “Families are the same everywhere, huh? Your family, mine, the Fueguchis… ghouls or humans, we all have that in common.”

Maybe it was a little cheesy, but Touka smiled back. “Yeah.”

The next day, Yoriko found Hinami wild-eyed and breathless, pleading for help and gesturing wildly. Minutes later, she had had to physically wrestle Hinami away from her mother the second she saw the woman cornered by two investigators in an alley.

“But—Mom! Mom’s there!”

“It doesn’t matter! It’s too late! We have to get out of here!”

So she pulled, and Hinami’s head snapped back just the moment Yoriko’s did, just in time to see the quinque rip right through Mrs. Ryouko’s torso.

She didn’t act in time to cover the girl’s eyes. But she did act in time to cover her mouth, smothering the scream that tore from the girl’s throat and she dragged her away.

Chapter Text

Yoriko thought she would burn up from Touka’s fury, even if she wasn’t the target of it. Instead, she just hunched over and let the heat fly over her head at Yoshimura as he tried to explain the situation. She wanted to speak up, to apologize to everyone, to beg them not to send Hinami away to the 24th ward, but she remained silent until Touka had stormed out of the room.

“I’m…” she looked up, glancing around at everyone. “I’m going to go… talk to her.”

Yoshimura nodded. She found Touka in a back room, slamming a fist against the wall, causing the shelves nearby to rattle.

“Don’t do that,” she murmured. “You’ll break something.”

Touka whirled on her. Yoriko prided herself on only flinched a little.

“Are you going to tell me what they did?” Touka snapped, “Are you just okay with Mrs. Ryouko being killed like that?”

“Of course not,” Yoriko said. “But… but isn’t the manager right? We can’t risk more people, no matter how unfair it is. And if the investigators are looking for her here, then maybe she’ll have a better chance in the 24th ward, so…”

She saw Touka’s eyes narrow.

“I mean—! It’s just… if that’s no good, we can always think of a better way. If we just wait awhile, then I’m sure a better option will…”

Touka stormed past her, eyes so full of rage that Yoriko was certain they flashed red.

“Touka, Touka wait!”

But Touka didn’t offer another word, and all Yoriko got in reply was the sound of a slamming door at the end of the hallway.

The cheesecake was foul in her mouth. She rolled her tongue around a bit, trying to maneuver the paste without tasting it. It didn’t quite work. She felt her throat tighten and bile rise up in the back of her throat. Still, she kept mashing her teeth together, hoping that it looked like she was chewing.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and saw Ryouko Fueguchi skewered in the alleyway and Touka’s snarling face from the last time she'd seen her.

“Is something wrong?” Her mother asked from across the table. “You don’t look very pleased.”

She smiled, corners of her lips twitching a little more than necessary. She managed to swallow. “I’m fine.”

I have to be happy. My mother’s still alive. I have to appreciate it, even if the food is ashes in my mouth.

She saw her mother’s eyes tighten. She felt chills run up her arms at the expression. Her mother was watching closely, gleaning in every bit of information she could. Yoriko knew the look well enough.

“Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, Mom?”

“Nothing in particular,” her mother said, “I just thought it had been too long since we’d had an outing together. I thought you needed a break. And anyway, I missed it.”

It had been a while. In the past, she and her mother used to go eat out and window shop once a week. It had been something she’d always looked forward to on the weekends: being able to chat and relax, just the two of them. Sumiko had rarely tagged along once she was old enough to convince Mom to let her stay home.

As it was, they hadn’t had an outing together in almost a year. Yoriko wished she could enjoy it. But talking to her mother wasn’t easy like it used to be. She had changed. She ached to tell her mother everything and cry on her shoulder, but she was too afraid that her mother wouldn’t respond with a hug and soft reassurances this time. So she kept quiet. But her mother looked more haggard and worried by the day, and the weight in every silence between them was heavy as two dead bodies.
Now she could see her mother’s tense grip on her silverware and feel the strain in her voice as she gently prodded. Her mother didn’t bother to voice her questions—not when Yoriko had brushed her off so many times—but she could them lurking behind her eyes.

She kept pace with her mother’s conversation, hoping they’d leave soon. This place used to be her favorite stop, but having to eat with only her mother around and seeing how closely her mother eyed her every move made her want to leave. She wouldn’t get to throw up. Not that she couldn’t take it: she had to keep a good percentage of her meals down anyway when she was at home.

Your mother’s voice is annoying, she could imagine Rize saying, Let me tear out those vocal chords and get a real dessert for once. I can't stand her prattling over this poison.

Yoriko shook away Rize’s nasty thoughts, and pushed her cheesecake away.

“I’m not that hungry,” she said, “Besides, it’s a lot of calories. No one respects a woman who’s overweight, right? Might as well cut down on what I can! It’s like you said, every little bit counts.”

She expected that excuse to work, but instead a look of anguish crossed her mother’s face.

“Yori…” she said, “Is that what you think?”

She didn’t know what to read from her mother’s expression so she just nodded, unsurely. Her mother looked at her.

“Yoriko, you’re too thin,” her mother said, “I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but ever since the accident I’ve noticed your cheeks are starting to get hollow. What have you been doing to yourself? No… I suppose it doesn’t matter. I want you to finish your cheesecake right now.”

She didn’t expect the stern tone of voice her mother used. “But you said…”

“Forget what I said!” and then it happened, the switch from a normal volume to something too strained and loud for a public area. “I know—I know I was hard on you in the past. About your weight and everything. That was wrong of me. I’m sorry.” Her voice dropped. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Mom…”

“Just eat.” Her mother wiped eyes. They were already red. “Your health is more important than anything else, okay?”

She had to finish the entire cheesecake. She didn’t get to throw it up, but she felt better as she left. The air outside helped. On the sidewalk, her mother pulled her into a hug.

“You’re such a wonderful girl, forgiving your horrible mother for all the mistakes she’s made,” she said, her tone light. “I don’t know how you became such a good person, but don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?”

I’m a murderer. I’m a ghoul. I ate a good man. I couldn’t save an innocent woman.

“I… yeah,” Yoriko swallowed, her throat scratchy. “Thank you, Mom.”

Thank you for caring. Thank you for being alive.

Sumiko continued visiting, since only the investigators knew Hinami’s face and the younger Kosaka girl wasn’t much of a danger. Hinami asked for to continue the meetings herself, actually. Touka could understand why. She had nothing to do while Touka and Yoriko had work or school, and she wouldn’t have another kid to play with for a long time if things went as Yoshimura had planned.

Touka didn’t know what they did all day. Whenever she passed by, or entered to see if things were okay, both girls were dead silent. She saw books, some playing cards, and a bit of a boardgame at times, but neither girl seemed particularly invested in the objects.

When she did hear some conversation from behind the door, right as she was about to tell the human girl it was time to head home, she wasn’t sure if she liked it.

“Do you think it’s wrong for ghouls to live?”

It was Hinami that asked that, barely audible behind the door. Touka stopped, stilling her own breath to listen.

“Huh?” Sumiko’s voice wasn’t much louder. “Why would it be wrong?”

“Because they kill people… right?”

Touka could feel her pulse in the ensuing pause.

“Yeah,” Sumiko answered, “But a lot of things kill people. No one ever says those shouldn’t exist. It’s just nature right? More people die of strokes or lung cancer than ghoul attacks anyway.”

Another pause. Then Hinami’s voice spoke through the door, muffled. “What do you… what do you think about ghouls, then?”

“I dunno. They’re as smart as humans and much stronger, so I think it’s weird that they don’t rule the world or something.”

She listened through another pause.

“But why are you talking about ghouls so much now, anyway?”

“I-I…” she could hear Hinami struggle to think of something, “I just…”

Touka nearly slammed the door open. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Kosaka, get downstairs. Your sister says it’s time for you to go.”

She waited until she saw Yoriko and her sister leave through the window before starting the conversation. “Hinami… you know that you can’t talk about stuff like that with humans, right? You can’t bring up things that might get them suspecting you.”

“I—but I won’t be here long, anyway. Why should it matter?”

“It matters. Especially now. Okay?”

Hinami nodded quietly, and Touka stood up.

“And you won’t be going to the 24th ward. I’ll make sure of that.”

Yoriko didn’t think getting worse with practice was possible, but the repeated sessions with Yomo proved her wrong.

“You performed that move better yesterday,” he told her as she panted and leaned against the wall. “You’re hesitating more, and at the same time you’re sloppier.”

She looked away, trying to catch her breath. It was true. She couldn’t deny it. She’d improved in a few things: at the very least, she was dodging better. But her arms seemed to get weaker and weaker with each punch she threw until they had no more power behind them than jelly.

She’d thought she’d get more confident with practice. Instead, what little confidence she had got worn further and further down.

“Here, we’ll stop sparring for now. Instead, we’ll practice individual moves on the punching bag until you’ve got them down.”

She nodded and got up, facing the punching bag.

“Start now. I’ll correct you as necessary.”

She started. It was just a simple punch. There was more technique behind it than she’d ever guessed just from watching, but this was definitely not a complicated move. She started punching.

“Put more effort into it! Faster!”

She tried, slamming her fist. He shouted again, and she put more effort into it. Her hands shook. She felt her body shake. Harder. Faster. She should be able to punch through the bag if she used her own strength, he told her. So she tried. She threw everything into each strike, and slowly she felt the power start to build up.
Then, a face. His face. He wasn’t there—that would be impossible—and yet the image was so clear and powerful that all the strength went out of her arms.

“Kosaka? What’s the matter?”

She felt a shudder throughout her entire body. It quickly turned to a spasm of trembling so violent that she had to grab the punching bag to support herself. Her vision blurred. Bile rose to her throat, and she felt her stomach lurch. Her body wretched as though she needed to purge herself, but she’d already lost any human food she’d eaten earlier in the day so all she could do was let it convulse and come up dry.

Yomo had a hand on her shoulder. “Easy. Calm down.”

She tried to do as he said, but all she could do was hang onto the punching bag a little tighter. Her heart hammered and her lungs tightened, suffocating her. Her knees turned to jelly, and she couldn’t see anything: not the ground or Yomo or the punching. All she could see was that bloodied alley, the bits of chewed guts mashed into the pavement, and those eyes—his eyes.

It was a while before Yomo shook her out of it.

“Sit down. Catch your breath.”

He didn’t ask her to explain, so she did as he said, hugging her knees and trying to make her breathing less painful.

“Mr. Yomo… I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I’m… no good at this, am I?”

“Don’t take this as an insult, but yes. I haven’t trained many other people, but you strike me as completely hopeless. You have no will to fight. I get the feeling that you’re not even trying to learn, but just trying to get through each session while paying attention as little as possible.”

She didn’t answer for a while, but squeezed her knees tighter. “Yomo. Did you know that I…?” she couldn’t finish.

“I heard that you killed someone, yes.”

She nodded as best she could with her head against her knees. “If I… if I could become strong, then wouldn’t I just,” she swallowed, “Wouldn’t I just become someone who could hurt people more? Kill them more? Maybe… maybe it’s better if I stay weak.”

He didn’t say anything, but stared at her expressionlessly.

“I mean—! I sh-shouldn’t… maybe I shouldn’t even say something like that after Mrs. Ryouko… I mean, if I had been stronger there, then she wouldn’t have d-di…” she choked on the last consonant, “But still. I just. Fighting like this is so…”

It eroded her. Something about the repeated motion of throwing one’s energy into a blow, honing your body to hurt someone else went against something inside her. It was violent, desperate, aggressive and she felt her soul withering away with each new strike. Even though she’d already killed and seen death.

No, especially because of that…

“I don’t know if I can take it,” she croaked.

It was a moment before she heard Yomo stand up. Her head shot up to watch his movements.

“If that is how you feel, then I don’t think you’ll learn anything from these sessions,” he said. “Learning to fight isn’t something you do half-heartedly. If you can’t put your will into it, then you’ll never progress. We’ll stop for today.”

She looked at him and nodded miserably.

“Before you make your choice, I think there’s something you should know. If you refuse to be strong, you’re right: you won’t be able to hurt people as much. But if that’s the route you pick, then be prepared to watch helplessly as people close to you fall. And when that time comes, will you really look back feel that you didn’t turn your back on the possibility of helping them?”

“I—I don’t…”

“Think on it. I won’t judge you for whatever decision you make. But don’t come back unless you’re really ready to train.”

Yoriko would see Touka the next day, blood dripping down her arm and eyes flashing with anguish and voice snarling with anger as she lurched away from her. She snapped the moment Yoriko saw her and bolted from the room the moment she stepped forward to try and help.

“Don't touch me!” she would yell before leaving Yoriko in the dust.

Yoshimura would explain it to her: Touka had attacked the doves. If she did that, then she had to accept the consequences alone. He would not help. Anteiku would not help. She’d gone against their decision, so they wouldn’t stick their necks out for her.

Yoshimura didn’t miss a beat when he spoke of it: abandoning Touka. He spoke with the gravity and serenity of someone who had turned his back on many different people he cared about, leaving them to perish for their own mistakes. Yoriko ground her teeth.

“I can’t accept that,” she said. “I can’t… no. I’m sorry. You’ll have to shun me too, Mr. Yoshimura.”

She saw a faint hint of a smile on his face before she ran to grab the bandages and left. She found Touka, still clutching her arm and hissing in pain. She jumped when Yoriko called to her.

“Get away,” Touka snapped. “Don’t you get it? Didn’t he explain it to you?”

“Yes, but…” she shook her head, “Touka, you tried to attack the doves? And you… if you’re acting like this, then that means you failed, right?”

Touka hissed at her.

“Please, stop it,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice from turning shrill, “Just, lay low for a while. They’ll have to stop looking for you eventually. Hinami too.”

“They won’t,” Touka said, “Don’t tell me how to act. You don’t know anything about them. They never quit. I have to kill the ones that saw her face or that’s it!”

Yoriko swallowed and took a good long look down at where her friend was crouching. The snarl on her face, the mess of her hair, the blood dripping down her arm, the tense, white-knuckled grip of her hand around a can of coffe—Touka seemed outright feral, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. She searched for the right words, but Touka spoke first, growling.

“Why should we just let our own kind get cut down and do nothing about it? Why should we just let each other die?! I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care what you think of us. I don’t care if you don’t think we should exist or not. If an innocent ghoul like Mrs. Ryouko gets killed I’m going to do something about it!”

She waited for Touka to catch her breath and for the right words to come to her. “But I don’t think you shouldn’t exist, Touka. I’m… I’m sorry I said that before, but that’s not what I believe now. Mrs. Ryouko… it was just as wrong for her to be killed as it is for a human.”

Touka looked away. Yoriko stepped forward instinctively, then stopped, thinking over her next move. After a moment’s hesitation, she knelt down next to her. Touka didn’t move away at the gesture, which made something bloom in Yoriko’s chest, gentle like a spring flower and painfully warm like a candle flame.

“Here. Let me patch you up so you don’t bleed so much, and you can tell me everything that happened, okay?”

Touka didn’t object, so she started. Eventually, as she patched her up, Touka put down the can of coffee she’d grabbed and her silence broke. She told the entire story in mumbles broken by the occasional hiss of pain: she had gone out and tried to kill the investigators only to find herself outmatched. As she finished, Yoriko could hear her tone harden until every word prickled the air between them like barbed wire.

“Don’t bother trying to stop me,” Touka finished. “I’ve already started this, and I’m going to finish it.”

“But you said yourself that man was too strong. It’s not worth it. Mrs. Ryouko’s already dead. And you can just—”

“No,” Touka said, pulling her arm away as Yoriko finished wrapping her up. “Thanks for the bandages. But I don’t need anything else.”

She tried to stand, but Yoriko grabbed her by her good arm. “You know I don’t want you to die either, right?” she asked, feeling her own voice harden. “If you die, I don’t know how I’ll manage. That’s just the truth. This thing you’re trying to do, it sounds like a suicide mission.”

Touka scowled. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I have a plan.”

“Then…” Yoriko gulped, “Then…”

The thought of watching Touka dead and bleeding out in an alley gripped her like an icy claw.

“Then let me help you.”

If Yoriko had claimed to be an alien, Touka’s stare would have been about as disbelieving. “No.”

“I can help! I can…”

“Absolutely not. What could you do? You can’t fight. You couldn’t even keep up in your lessons with Yomo. And these guys aren’t like regular humans. They’d make mincemeat out of you. Even if you didn’t die, all you could do is slow me down.”

Yoriko felt her face convulse. “But…” She felt her grasp on Touka tighten of its own accord.

“Just stay with your family. With your sister. With Hinami. No matter what happens, just do that for me. Alright?”

“’No matter what happens?’” Yoriko repeated dismally, “Can you hear yourself? Don’t you realize how that sounds?”

Touka pulled her arm away and stood up. “See you later, Yoriko.”

She paced around, eyes burning, and back aching. She couldn’t sleep. She’d tried, but blood and death had flashed behind her eyelids. She finally got up, picked up her phone, and headed downstairs.

Touka, please promise me you won’t do anything tonight, she texted. I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t promise.

But an hour of pacing and jittering passed, and she didn’t get an answer. Her heart pounded, but she sat down, calming herself. Perhaps Touka had just fallen asleep. Or was too angry to talk to her. She took a deep breath. Her hand started to shake.

She needed something to do, so she got up and started to make coffee. She had just finished when she turned and saw Sumiko standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She practically dropped her coffee.

“Sumi. You’re awake.”

Sumiko nodded. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

“How come you’re making coffee then?”

“I… well…”

They ended up watching a movie, an American film that Sumi liked a lot and that Mom had detested for all the violence. She’d seen it enough times, so she let her eyes look blearily past the television. She sits up straight and squares her shoulders because leaning back against the couch’s cushions strangely made her even more uncomfortable.

If you refuse to be strong, then be prepared to watch helplessly as people close to you fall. 

Yomo had spoken about turning one's back on others. Was she turning her back on Touka, she wondered? Her stomach twisted and she could feel her lungs tighten. Her breathing started to get harsh and painful. Isn’t that was Yoshimura was doing, and had told her to do as well? Sitting here, drinking coffee, watching a movie while Touka threw herself out there to protect Hinami and avenge Mrs. Fueguchi: it felt like a quiet betrayal. She wondered if that’s how Touka saw it, all of Anteiku looking away while she bit and clawed to bring some kind of rightness back to a world that had wronged her.

She rubbed her eyes, wiping away traces of tears, and glanced back at her sister. Sumiko had already passed out, head rolled back against the sofa cushion, so she turned her eyes back to the screen and tried to focus on the images flashing there, hoping they could push the thoughts out of her head. They didn’t.

How could I help her anyway? I’m too weak. She said so herself. I can’t do anything.

She clenched her hands against her knees, and her breath caught in her throat.

She looked up. A man was shooting down several other men dressed in black. Yoriko’s vision focused and unfocused on the scene. Then, she blinked. She held her breath, eyes widening.

Of course.

When Touka heard a knock on her door that early in the morning, she knew it couldn’t be good. She braced herself when she opened the door, but wasn’t prepared to see Yoriko standing there, sweat staining the roots of her hair and her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“What are you doing up at this hour? Did something happen?” she asked. She prayed nothing had but her fist clenched and her knees loosened, ready to sprint out at the first indication she needed to.

“Touka… I want to help you.”

Touka sighed, relaxing. “You came here for that?”

She was about to tell her to quit it and go back home, but a look at her friend made the words die on her lips. Yoriko’s eyes were bright, shining. Her shoulders weren’t sagging the way they had the past few weeks, but were straight and determined. In the blue light trailing from the window, she could see sweat glittering in trails down her friend’s face and neck, staining the edge of her shirt. She wasn’t moving, but Touka could swear she felt a tense, vibrant energy pulse from her. 

Beautiful. The word bubbled up inher thoughts.For a moment, she felt her heart stop in her chest. Still, she shook her head.

“No, Yoriko. I won’t accept that. The sort of stuff I’m doing… I won’t turn my back on it, but it’s not for you. You’re better than this.”

“Why?” Yoriko asked, voice ringing brightly. “I’m a killer too, you know.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t,” Yoriko’s voice turned rough, and Touka could feel the aching throb of it. “I am a killer. Just like you. Whatever you’re doing... if it’s good enough for you then it’s good enough for me, too.”

Touka swallowed. “You’re wrong. What you did was—”

“Don’t you get it?” Yoriko asked, “I can’t just watch you go ahead with this and do nothing! If you die, and all I did was stay at home, I’d never be able to live with myself! I want to be with you! I want to work with you! If living peacefully means leaving you behind, then I don’t want it. Because I…”

Yoriko’s eyes glistened. Somehow, the distance between them had closed, and Touka could see the dim light reflecting against her irises. Yoriko shook her head suddenly, biting down on her lip as though to cut off the end of that sentence.

“I want to help you.”

Touka’s heart raced as though she were in a fight. Still, she felt warmth inside her at her friend’s proclamation, and she smiled. “Thank you,” she said, her voice softer than she’d imagined it.

If I die now, it’ll be fine… because having heard this from you will make my life worth the trouble.

“But there’s still nothing you can do. You don’t have anything that can go against the doves.”

She hoped this would work, that she could explain it away and Yoriko could go back home. But Yoriko just raises her chin. “I have a plan.”
Touka blows out air, a little annoyed. “You—”

Before she could finish, Yoriko had opened her purse and out came a gun.

“They don’t work on ghouls,” her friend said, voice trembling a little. “Of course they don’t. And ghouls don’t use them because they don’t work against each other so they’re useless most of the time. I’ve never heard about a ghoul using one. But you know… they still work on humans. And that’s all investigators are, right? Human?”

Yoriko’s eyes trembled with raw energy and fearful determination. Touka saw her hand shake even as it grasped the gun tightly. Still, her heart swelled uncertainly, torn between pity for her friend's desperation or respect for how much she'd changed and how firm her resolve was.

“Yori... you're...” she reached out, resting her hand on her shoulder and squeezing. Then, a smile broke out unbidden over her face. “You're amazing. Now put that away. Come inside and we’ll talk.”

Yoriko’s eyes met hers, and the gentle—real—smile she gave made Touka wonder how she’d ever lived without it.

Chapter Text

She didn’t expect there to be an answer when she knocked on the door after 12:00pm. No shop was open at that hour. Still, she’d already come all that way, so it had to be worth a shot. After all, the last time they’d spoken he’d mentioned late hours. When the door did open, though, she jumped a little too far back. Red and black eyes gleamed at her.

“Kosaka,” Uta said, “How nice to see you. Though I didn’t expect you to be coming back so soon?”

“Yeah, um. Hi,” she said, nervously fiddling with her bag. “You said I could come back any time. Sorry for… disrupting you.”

“Not at all. Please, come in.”

She did, uneasy at how politely he welcomed her in. She shook it off by getting to the point, blurting out immediately, “Okay, do you know where to get a gun?”

The look he gave was almost comical, blinking twice and then tilting his head. “Eh?”

“I just… I need one.”

“What for?”

“I really don’t want to say. But I need to talk to Touka—and I need to immediately because I don’t know when she’s going to do what she’s going to do—and I need the gun because I have this idea I need to talk to her about but I can’t just talk to her about it because,” she took a breath, surprised at how long her sentence was running, “Because she’ll just blow me off unless I have something concrete to show that I’m really serious, and this gun is the thing. So, please.”

Uta tapped one of his piercings thoughtfully.

“So…?”

“Ah?” he asked, eyes suddenly brightening, “I wasn’t listening. Could you repeat that?”

He ended up introducing her to a ghoul woman, Itori, who draped her hands over Yoriko in a way that made her breath stop, pulled her around and sat her down like a little doll she was setting up to play tea party with. Yoriko could feel hair stand up on her arms, but she reminded herself of how everyone at Anteiku insisted that these were good people. And she trusted Anteiku’s word, so she swallowed her apprehension and repeated her rushed explanation.

“Does this have something to do with the whole debacle over Mrs. Fueguchi?”

Yoriko nodded.

“Interesting. And what do you plan to do if I say I can’t tell you?”

“I already have a plan. But I don’t think it’s very good and I’d rather rely on something safer.”

“Oh?”

And somehow, though Yoriko didn’t want to tell them her plan, she ended up telling them.

“I just thought I’d go to an abandoned warehouse or something, then call the police and say I was being attacked. Then when the officer came I’d jump him and take his gun. But I really—”

She was cut off by the ghoul woman’s laugh. “I like it!”

“But—”

“I like it too. It sounds funny, coming from you,” Uta said, “You should do it.”

“Not if there’s a better option. That was… I just thought that because I felt really desperate. I can’t do something like that. I don’t really know how to fight.”

“Human police officers are pretty weak,” Itori said.

“Still! There are a million things that could go wrong!”

“That’ll make it better,” Uta said.

“Please just tell me if you know a better way?”

“I do,” the ghoul woman grinned, her voice singsong. “But I don’t think I’ll tell you now.”

For a moment Yoriko’s blood boiled, but then it cooled. She thought of her Mom, the way her mother would haggle her way through any business deal and wring things out of people while both she and Sumiko stood by, mortified. She thought of all the times her mother had insisted that she be more pushy and get what she want, all the times she’d talked about negotiating. Then, she took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she started, trying to keep her voice slow. “I understand that these things are funny to you guys. That makes sense. I mean, it’s not like you guys were ever like me. You don’t know what it’s like to be weak. Wait,” she held up her hand at the woman across from her, “Let me finish. I get that it’s not a big deal for you, but me? I’d never hit someone in my entire life before becoming a ghoul, and it scares me. I can’t… do all these things other ghouls can.”

She watched them carefully. There wasn’t any pity in their expressions, but they were curious, listening. She continued.

“And I know it’s silly. It is. But here’s the thing—I want to like you. I want to trust you. Everyone tells me such great things about you two,” (a lie, she’d only ever heard things about Uta), “And I want to believe them, but if you just laugh at me and turn me out and make me do something that might get me in trouble or make me hurt someone? I don’t think I’ll be able to like or trust you very much.”

She thought it was a weak plea on her part, but it was met with heavy silence. “You know, I don’t give out information for free,” Itori cut in.

She nodded back. “Of course not. I’ll be in your debt. But ask me anything in the future—as long as it doesn’t involved killing anyone—and I’ll do it.”

She waited. Suddenly, Itori slapped her on the back. The strength of the gesture made her cringe.

“You get more amusing each time you open your mouth. Alright. I’ll go easy on you—just this once. I know a stash of some old weaponry some Yakuza members abandoned. And by abandoned, I mean they got killed off before they could use the place. Go there.”

“Thanks!” Yoriko sighed in relief. “Um, so is there something you want me to do immediately, or…?”

“Oh no, consider this time free of charge! I’m a bit too interested in how your little scheme with Touka will work out, anyway. Actually, you do have a charge: tell me everything after it’s all over.”

She nodded. “Right. Thanks.”

She left with directions to the stash, thanking them profusely as she did. On her way out, she sighed, shaking away the distrust that had settled into her. Uta and Itori were nice people, once she you knew how to talk to them. She just needed to stop being so paranoid.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sack tossed in her face from the door.

“Hey! Take this! I believe it’s about time!”

She nodded and politely bid him goodnight before opening the satchel and finding her mask.

The hours Yoriko spent at her place discussing her plan, eyes bright as Touka found herself more and more convinced, were the best they’d spent together in a while. For once, Touka felt strangely peaceful. Even though they bickered over the details they could sit together, inches apart at times yet unaware of the closeness, and breathe.

“We don’t have to kill anyone,” Yoriko said, lifting her chin when Touka asked about it.

“Excuse me? You brought a gun here, and now you—”

“But we don’t! People’s memories get really foggy, especially for someone they’ve just seen once, right? So if we injure them enough to put them in recovery for six months, then there’s no way they’ll be able to remember Hinami’s appearance clearly. Plus, if we change her look a little… maybe give her fake glasses and some hair-dye…”

“You can’t do these things half-way.”

“But won’t killing them just make them send in more officers? I mean, they might do that anyway but if we don’t kill them then they’ll assume we’re weak and not worth a lot of effort, so they won’t send anyone really tough.”

“The investigators will be alive to tell them how strong we were, and that we let them live intentionally…”

“Oh…”

Still, Yoriko was firm, and they argued on.

“It’s not that simple,” she said, brushing aside the specifics of an argument, “When you’re fighting for your life it’s not like you can hold back.”

“Still. I don’t want to kill anyone else.”

Touka sighed. “Okay. You don’t have to. But if things go south and I’m fighting… don’t try to stop me, okay?”

Yoriko looked at her for a moment, her eyes hardening. Then, she nodded. She brought up her hand, and gave Touka a thumbs up.

“Let’s do our best, then.”

She restarted training with Yomo, and met him every night after work. It was different now. Her lungs didn’t burn after ten minutes and her legs didn’t shake or slip as she performed the footwork. Of course, that didn’t mean she could get a hit on him: instead, he seemed faster and stronger than before, holding back a little less.

“Better,” he said, “But you’re still too sloppy on a lot of the forms.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t waste your breath apologizing. Again.”

She swallowed her discomfort with it all, sweeping it out of her mind as she redirected her focus. Mrs. Fueguchi and Hinami. Her mother and Sumiko. She didn’t know if she could ever be strong, but for their sake it would be wrong of her not to throw every bit of herself into trying.

Thinking that, she could find the energy to punch through the punching bag.

“Do you practice outside of these sessions?” he asked her when they were done.

“No, I haven’t been.”

“If you find time to go through the forms every day, then you’ll find yourself improving much faster. I suggest you try it.”

The nights she didn’t train with him she trained with Touka, sometimes practicing using the gun, with her friend offering herself as a target (much to Yoriko’s dismay and later frustration when Touka insisted on running around). Touka wasn’t impressed with her skills.

“You’re the one talking about just injuring them and leaving them be. Well with your aim you’re not going to be able to pick and choose which body part you hit, so you can just forget about hitting the leg,” she said, bullets flying around her face, “The torso’s a much larger target, so at the level you’re at it’s going to be there or nowhere.”

“I know,” Yoriko mumbled, “I’m trying.”

Praticing with the kagune, though, was the real novelty. Especially considering how nervous Touka was the night they started.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Touka muttered under her breath.

“Don’t I have to learn to use it? You said so yourself.”

“Yeah. But.”

“So how do I use it?”

Touka swallowed, and through the tiny dripping hitting the floor of the sewer, she could hear her discomfort. “For beginners—like, ghoul kids—it only comes out when you’re in pain, freaked out, or about to eat someone”

“So…” Yoriko got it. Her enthusiasm started to dim. “I’m guessing you’re not just going to try and… jump out and say ‘boo.’”

“You know what?” Touka threw her hands up. “This was a dumb idea. Let’s head back.”

She tried to leave a little too speedily, but Yoriko caught her arm. Touka flinched a little at the contact.

“Um—sorry about that, I just… isn’t this important? I need to learn to control it eventually, and I might need it for the fight specifically so,” she withdrew her arm, “So. You know?”

“Yeah, it’s important,” Touka said, “But I’m really not comfortable with breaking your fingers.”

That caused Yoriko to pause. “Oh.”

Touka was turned away, so Yoriko couldn’t see her face. She took a deep breath.

“Well, I’m going to have to learn sometime,” she said, “I’d rather it be you, to be honest, instead of Yomo or… some dove.”

Touka turned. Yoriko could see the discomfort written all over her face. “You sure?”

“Y-yeah,” she gulped. “I mean I’ll heal, right?”

“You should. But still.”

“What better options do we have?”

There was another long silence. Finally, Touka took a deep breath. “Okay. You’re really sure about this?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Touka cracked her knuckles, and stepped forward. “I’ll count, and get it over with on the count of three, then. Are you ready?”

Yoriko nodded, gulping. “Yeah,” she said, feeling her voice get fainter.

Touka took her hand, and Yoriko felt tingles up her arm. She was close enough to make out the shape of the reflection in her friend’s eyes, close enough that she could brush their lips together if she leaned in enough. The thought was disgusting of her, she knew, but she allowed it. After all, the way her heart fluttered pleasantly at the image provided a good distraction.

Touka began. “Alright. One—”

But she didn’t get to “Two” before she snapped Yoriko’s finger in half. Yoriko screamed, her vision exploding in whiteness from the pain.

The tendrils ripped from her back and flailed forward. Her body whipped backwards at the sudden force, and she felt her hand slip from Touka’s grasp and her convulsing body pulled against her friend’s. Her kagune stopped in the air, twitching a little before they collapsed on the ground in a heap. She felt warm energy rush to her finger, healing it.

Touka held her tight as the pain faded and the world slowly came back into focus. She was panting, shaking violently.

“Are you okay?” She heard Touka ask, voice tickling her ear.

She wrapped her trembling hands around Touka’s waist before she knew what she was doing. “Mm-hm.”

“I’m sorry. It hurts less when you’re not anticipating it, so I…”

“It’s fine,” she breathed out, giving a shaky laugh. A weak thought insisted that this closeness was Not Good but it was lost in the whirlwind of emotions and Touka’s warmth.

She let herself stay like that for a moment before disentangling herself. “Sh-should we get to work, then?”

Yoriko’s kagune wasn’t as healthy as Rize’s. That was the first thing Touka noticed. She had seen Rize unfurl hers once, and it had been bright, nearly glowing red with four thick strong tentacles. Yoriko could only bring out about two, and they were thin and withered looking.

On top of that, their movements were weak and sluggish when she tried to direct them. The worst of it though was Yoriko’s lack of control. As uncoordinated as the things could be whenever Yoriko tried to use them consciously, they seemed quick and nifty whenever they acted instinctively, which she learned one unfortunate night one decided to wrap around her ankle and not let go. Yoriko getting flustered over it only had made it tighten until Touka had to attack the thing.

Still, it got better with each night. Eventually, the kagune started to act like an actual part of Yoriko’s body instead of like some sentient alien that had attached itself to her back. Soon after she could use it to strike and block against Touka’s attacks. However, she didn’t move with confidence as she used it: the force of each blow seemed to throw her off balance, dragging her feet across the floor.

“You have to ground yourself more,” Touka told her after a sparring session. “Right now, your kagune is blocking my attacks pretty well, but your body is like five steps behind it. You use your kagune, not the other way around. Okay?”

Yoriko nodded. “Okay. Got it.”

Their sparring wasn’t the horrible experience that Touka expected it to be. She never saw any reluctance or resentment in her friend’s expression for putting her through this and so her own doubts started to ease away. Eventually it became… not fun exactly, but pleasant enough. Almost therapeutic, in how each time she could be reassured that neither Yoriko nor their friendship was crumbling under the weight of what they were doing. Perhaps the focus of having a common, urgent goal allowed them to brush aside their usual problems. Whatever the case was, Touka found herself grateful for their time together.

One day, Yoriko asked to see her kagune.

“I’m using mine all the time, but you never take yours out,” she said.

Touka hesitated. “I don’t think you’re ready to spar with me while I’m using it yet.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Yoriko insisted. “I just want to see what it looks like. Can you bring it out?”

There was no reason for her to say “no.” Still, she felt her stomach tighten at the thought. It wasn’t as though showing her kagune was like stripping naked: there was nothing embarrassing about it. Still, no one had ever just asked to see it out of simple curiosity. The request made her feel odd and uncomfortable. Still, a look into Yoriko’s eyes made her cast her feelings aside.

“Alright,” she said. “I can show you.”

She felt her eyes transform and her wing unfurl from her back. It flared out before settling into a somewhat stable size and shape. Yoriko’s eyes widened, her jaw dropped open, and she stepped back.

Touka panicked. She’s afraid. Fuck, she’s afraid. Of course, she’s afraid of ghoul stuff. I’d better—

“Touka,” Yoriko gasped, “Touka, you’re beautiful!”

All coherent thought left. “What?”

“You’re gorgeous!” Yoriko cried, her face lighting up. “You have wings—a wing—you’re like an angel!”

It sounded so childish, so stupid, but it hit her like a smack in the face. She was empty in front of such an absurd statement. Her? An angel? Her brain had no response. Her chest tightened a little, a strange feeling that felt a little like fear zapping each of her nerves. But Yoriko came closer, and all Touka could focus on was how her friend’s eyes sparkled with awe.

“It’s like fire, but the color of the universe. And it’s a wing. I’ve never seen anything like it—it’s amazing.”

Yoriko reached out to them and Touka drew instinctively back. Yoriko stopped, her hand in the air. Touka could see a blush rise to her face.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just wanted to…” her fingers twitched the air, as though to demonstrate, babbling as she did so, “I mean, I wonder how they feel?”

Yoriko’s hand dropped to her side, and Touka spoke before she could think better of it. “You can—if you want."

She almost smacked her own face for blurting that out, but Yoriko’s eyes lit up again. “Really? I you don’t want me to, then…”

“It’s fine,” Touka cut her off. What the fuck, what the fuck, why am I allowing this…? “I mean, I’ve touched yours plenty. There’s nothing… weird about it.”

She didn’t know what she meant by “weird” but that whole sentiment was a lie because she felt weird right then. Yoriko brushed it all out of her head by rushing to her side, reaching her hand out again. She hesitated for a moment, and then Touka felt gentle fingers stroke her kagune.

The touch was soft, but it made chills run through every part of Touka’s body. The nature of her kagune made it so that the form was never quite certain until she stabilized it herself and it fluctuated like a candle’s flame. Because of this Yoriko’s fingers could lace right through her wing, brushing through it with all the ease she might stroke the air, and yet Touka could feel it. Yoriko gasped in awe, stroking gently through it at first, and then running her hands through it in clear delight.

“Amazing,” she murmured, “I thought it would be hot, like flame, but it’s just a little warm. And it’s—oh my god, it’s not like a…like a solid or liquid or gas or anything I’ve ever touched before… it’s like a whole new state of matter! Hm, it’s a bit more solid toward the root though.”

Yoriko’s hands reached a little lower on the wing. It responded, flaring up a little involuntarily. Yoriko laughed.

“Oh my god, it ruffled! Just like a bird’s wings. I… Touka, are you okay? You haven’t said anything?” Touka looked back to see Yoriko eyes wide. Her hands withdrew in a flurry at the eye contact. “Shoot! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it. I just…”

“I’m… I’m fine,” Touka said. Because she was, really. Her pulse was just racing a little too fast and for some reason she couldn’t think anything. “I just… no one ever really… it’s just not something I’m used to.”

“Okay,” Yoriko nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

But I want you to. The thought leapt to the forefront of her mind before she could stop it, and suddenly it was as though tight metal coils wrapped around her heart, making every beat more sensitive. “It’s fine,” she mumbled.

“You looked really uncomfortable, though. Is it very sensitive?”

“No, it’s not. How could you fight with it if it was?”

“Ah… good point.”

Touka withdrew her wing. The room dimmed, and Yoriko blinked a little.

“It kind of was glowing, wasn’t it?” she asked. “It seems darker in here now that it’s gone.”

“I guess.”

Yoriko looked away, and then a tiny smile lit up her face. “A wing that gives off light… you really are like an angel.”

Touka felt like the air had gotten a bit hot and stuffy. She tried to think of some sort of smart-aleck remark to relieve the sudden suffocation she felt, but couldn’t. “We’re done for the day,” she said instead. “Let’s head out.”

They walked in near silence, which made Touka squirm with restlessness as they reached the place where they had to part ways. She stopped for a moment before they said goodbye and struggled, trying to find the right thing to say. There was something—something that she had to say out loud—and it felt like it was ready to boil over and spill out into words, but it didn’t. She didn't even know what it was supposed to be, only that it burned strongly inside her. She huffed in frustration at herself.

“You’re not angry at me, are you?” Yoriko asked.

“No!” Touka said a little too strongly. “I just… gah.”

Yoriko smiled gently, beautifully. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

That night, when Touka went to sleep, she could feel Yoriko’s hands brushing lightly over her wing, burying itself in her.

Touka pulled her away to a back room after work the next day, and threw her a brown package.

“Eat,” she said. “It’s been too long and you need the nutrition, especially if we’re going ahead with this plan. Your kagune looks pathetic right now because you don’t eat enough. So, chow down.”

Yoriko’s shoulders tightened at the casual way Touka said it. She didn’t look up from the package immediately, but she could feel Touka watching her closely. A quick glance up showed her she was right. Touka was looking at her, jaw clenched and stern, like she was ready to shove it down her throat if necessary. Yoriko looked back down and frowned.

Is this some kind of test? Is this your way of asking if I’m really one of you now?

“Yoriko, you know what happens when you don’t eat,” Touka said, breaking the silence, “Do we really have to do this again?”

Her frown deepened. “No, I… can you just leave me for a moment? I want to eat by myself.”

In the corner of her eye, she could see Touka nod. Then, the other girl moved out, closing the door behind her.

The package smelled good, and it smelled stronger and better as she opened it up. Somehow, though, her stomach flipped at the sight. It was just a slab of meat. It looked no different from pork that one might see at the butcher’s. Touka might even have chosen it for that—it looked as much like regular food as it could, so she wouldn’t be seeing a face when she ate. But she still felt sick. Because this was a person, a victim, someone who had thrown themselves to their death out of despair. And now, they were meat. Neatly packed meat.

I tried to kill myself too, Touka. Remember?

Suddenly she imagined it being her in Yomo’s body bag, her being cut up and made into meat that looked no different from the packages at the grocery store. Her father's face flashed in her mind for a minute. And then she thought—again—of the man from the alleyway, and she put the meat back down, wrapping it up before she left the room.

“I can’t,” she told Touka, blurting out the rest before her friend could get a word in, “I just feel bad. I’m not going to do the same thing as last time, but… maybe another time.”

“Yoriko,” Touka’s face flashed with annoyance. “You can’t put it off. What if something goes wrong and—”

“I gotta go. Tell Yomo I won’t be here tonight.”

She could see Touka’s disapproval and worry, but she left anyway.

Tomorrow, Yoriko thought to herself, I’ll eat tomorrow. I just need more time.

Sumiko sat on her bed, playing games on the phone. Yoriko looked over at her for a minute, watching the game to distract herself from her own thoughts, only to turn away and close her eyes. Oh yeah, it was time to eat soon. She could tell because her sister was smelling disturbingly good to her again. Funny, it seemed her sense of smell heightened dramatically when she was hungry.

She thought about eating. She’d thought about eating a lot, every day to be honest whenever she found herself at the table with Sumiko or Mom, or when she went to the fridge on her own the way she used to, aching to find some sort of comfort food. Not eating for a month—even if she didn’t need the food for sustenance—had been hard. Thinking about the only way she could eat had been harder.

Maybe one day she’d be able to eat human meat without seeing that face, or without feeling like she should rip out her own organs as a punishment. But she didn’t want to. Didn’t feeling this way—however painful it was—mean that she was still human? That she still had a conscience?

“Are you saving up for something?”

Yoriko lurched a little, opening her eyes to find Sumiko looking at her intently. “What?”

“You’re never home anymore. You’re always working at Anteiku. Are you saving up money for something?”

“Um, no… I just… wanted to have something to do. Kind of to get out of the house more.”

She thought she saw Sumiko’s mouth flatten into a slight frown for a moment. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I just…” Yoriko shook her head, and then smiled. “I don’t think I can explain it.”

Sumiko headed off to bed shortly afterward, and Yoriko leaned back, closing her eyes and sighing.

Her phone rang hours later, waking her up. Touka’s name flashed across the screen. She fumbled, and answered.

“Touka—”

“Yoriko!” Touka barked over the phone, her voice cracking in panic. “Hinami’s missing! Get over here immediately!”

She jumped up. “Oh, sh-shoot! Do you have the…?”

“Yes. I got the gun. It’s right here. Just hurry or I swear I’m going alone!”

She slipped on her jacket after she hung up, shaking in her rush. She almost bolted out of her room when she remembered that Sumiko was sleeping right next door. She gulped and walked slowly past her door and downstairs, feeling her heart start to pump and her knees turn to jelly. She had just slipped on her shoes and reached for the door handle when—

“Don’t!”

The shriek was rough, ear-splitting, and louder than anything she’d heard from her sister in years. Yoriko flinched and turned around. Sumiko’s eyes were wide with panic.

“Sumi…”

“Don’t leave!” Sumiko gripped the rail of the staircase.

She gulped, and gave her sister a smile. “What’s the matter?” she asked, “I was just… going out for a bit.”

“It’s one in the morning. Where would you be going?”

“I… left something at work. I need to go get it.”

“You work tomorrow. You can get it then.”

She scrambled for an excuse, “I just… I won’t be out long.”

“You’re lying," she could hear the tears threatening to fall, even if she was too far away to see them build up in her sister's eyes, "I know you’re lying.”

She felt a lump form in her throat. It killed her to look into Sumi’s eyes while she was blinking away tears like that, so she looked away. “It’s important. I need to hurry. I can’t stay here and argue.”

“Why do you need to hurry if you just need to get something?” her sister asked, anger starting to creep into her tone as she made her way down the stairs.

Yoriko tried to think. Normally, she would have been able to think of a suitable excuse but all that she could hear in her mind was Touka’s “I’ll go by myself if you don’t hurry” so she just shook her head. She tried to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Sumiko, you have to trust me. I am not going to ki-ki—” but she couldn’t finish the thought, so she swallowed it, breaking eye contact as she did so, “I’m sorry for putting you through so much. I’ll be back. Goodbye.”

“No, wait—!”

She rushed out, slamming the door behind her and letting her face crumble as her sister’s cry rung from behind the door. Then, she bolted, running down the street before Sumiko could follow.

They didn’t meet at Anetiku, since Touka said they had to move fast, but further up at a place where Touka texted her to go. When she saw Touka, she gasped—partially from relief and partially from the exhaustion of running so long. Touka helped her stop by grabbing her shoulders, pulling her up when she felt she was just about to slouch and rest her hands against her knees.

“Maybe it would be better if you went back home,” Touka said.

“The plan—stick to the plan,” she mumbled back, breathless. “Gun?”

Touka pulled it out of her coat, and Yoriko took it and put it in her pocket. Then—though Yoriko didn’t know who initiated it—their fingers linked together. Yoriko found herself resting against her friend dizzily, squeezing her hand for comfort. And it was so, so stupid of her: irrational, spurred on by a rush of adrenaline and fear, by the panic she'd seen in her sister's eyes, by the terrifying possibility of killing or being killed that night--and by feelings that should have died out by now.

Should have. But didn’t, as she realized just then. But Touka didn’t push her away so again, she allowed herself this moment.

“Yoriko, I—” Touka whispered, and Yoriko could hear her gulp. “Thank you. I’d rather you didn’t, but… I’m so glad you want to be here.”

Yoriko nodded against her. “Mm-hm.”

But the moment only lasted seconds, and then they split, briefly talking over adaptations to their plan before running: Touka rushed to the place where Hinami was, and Yoriko ran after the tall investigator that seemed to be making his way to his partner.

She looked back after Touka for just a moment. Touka didn't look back, but then Yoriko didn't expect her to. Then, she slipped her mask on and took a deep breath before jumping out to fight.

Touka barely stopped herself from knocking Yoriko out and running off to defeat the doves by herself. Her friend was so, so fragile. Looking at her flushed and shaking in the moonlight made her heart ache. Feeling her delicate fingers and the rush of her heartbeat made her want to pick the girl up and tuck her gently away where she’d be safe forever. Even as she rushed to Hinami, something told her this would turn out to be a terrible mistake and suddenly she’d find herself sobbing over her friend’s broken corpse.

Still, she continued running. Because she feared for Yoriko from the bottom of her heart, but she trusted her just as much.

Don’t let that be in vain, Yoriko. If you die, I’ll never forgive you.

With that thought, she rushed into the darkness.

The investigator threw her aside easily—stronger and more capable than her, despite being human. Yoriko cried out, frustrated that she couldn’t disarm him in a non-lethal fashion. Her head smacked against the pavement. She rolled, groaning at the impact.

“I don’t have time for wannabe ghouls,” the man said, leaving her there. “You’re too young for this foolishness. Go home to your parents.”

She laughed at that: harsh, high-pitched laughter wrung out from her lungs by the fear pumping in her veins. Wannabe ghoul. Oh, she wished. But it seemed she was just a lousy ghoul. Anyway, that didn’t mean anything to her. That just meant—time for the next option. So she ran around him, standing in his way.

“I can’t let you go. You’ll hurt my friends.”

“You’re not strong enough to stop me.”

She pulled the gun out, and saw him step back. “I don’t have to be,” she replied.

The gunshot rang through the air.

Chapter Text

Touka almost got there too late. Hinami was already trembling against a concrete pillar, just moments away from being skewered by some white-haired dove. She had to hurl herself at him, abandoning all caution in an urge to rip out his guts with her teeth. Of course, it wasn’t that simple. Instead, a quinque slammed back at her, forcing her to change tactics and block midair. No damage taken, and the investigator’s focus was now on her, but she seethed at not being able to cut him up immediately.

“Ah, the Rabbit! I was wonderingly when you’d show up,” the investigator leered. And of course it was him—that smug, lazy-eyed bastard that had injured her before.

“Tch,” was all she managed in response.

“Would you like to know how I lured your friend here?” he asked, walking crookedly towards her. “It was simple, you see. Can you recognize the smell? I thought not. But her daughter, surely…”

Touka caught on, and in a moment was hurling herself at the man again, kagune flaring behind her.

“I’ll kill you!” she screamed.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of rage and violence, broken up only by the man’s taunts. She wanted to rip him to pieces, to tear off the skin on his face and smash his jaw so he’d never speak again. Every time he opened his mouth, she felt her kagune burn with the need to stomp him out of existence.

How dare he? Kill him. Fucking kill him.

She couldn’t get to Hinami, so she had to fight with the sound of the of the girl’s muffled sobs filling up whatever silence was left between the blows. It sped her attacks up. She had to finish this fast. She had to cut the man down quickly so she could stop that heart-wrenching sound. So she could actually win and not run out of stamina and end up as another dead body skewered before the younger girl’s eyes.

It’s not fair, she wailed inwardly. How can he act like we’re uncaring monsters while at the same time he baits us with emotions for our loved ones?

All the more reason to rip his heart out, she decided.

The investigator’s appearance reminded her of Superman from the old American comics she’d glimpsed through once. Strong, straight jawline. Broad shoulders. Strict posture. He was the sort of man that her mother might have pointed to when she was three and said, “See, Yoriko? If you’re ever in trouble go to a man in uniform, just like that one.”

Predictably, his Superman-face didn’t show much fear at the sound of the bullet, but behind the sternness she could see a bit of shock. She flinched more herself. The noise hurt her ears without the earplugs she’d used during their practice in the sewer. She’d prepared herself for the kickback, but somehow she found herself flinching at the power of the shot. Tremors ran through her arms, making the gun shake visibly.

“Th-that was a warning shot,” she stammered as loud as she could once it had bounced off the ground and the air had cleared of the sound. “Now step back. Or I’ll shoot f-for real.”

She couldn’t keep her voice steady. She couldn’t keep any part of herself steady. He could see it. She knew she was so obviously weak, but she kept her aim as steady as possible. The man’s eyes narrowed.

“Who do you think you’re fooling?” he said, “You would actually shoot one of your own kind to help them? You can’t even hold that weapon straight.”

He thought she was human. She was that weak: he couldn’t even believe she was a real ghoul. The gun probably was absolute proof to him. What ghoul needed such a weak weapon, after all? Still, let him think that. She didn’t have to correct him.

“Put the-the brief case down, or I shoot,” she said, the idea suddenly occurring to her. “I don’t want to kill you, but I-I will. If you try anything.”

She really expected him to. It was stupid to charge at an enemy holding a gun at your head, after all. So when she saw him slowly lower the case to the ground her shoulders relax and she started to let out a sigh. That was her mistake.

In a flash, he was hurling at her, briefcase open and glowing red mallet suddenly in her face. She barely jumped back in time to dodge his first blow, and wasn’t so lucky with the second one. Before she knew what was going on, she found herself smashed into a wall. She crumpled a little, but pushed her side against the wall for support. Her hands curled protectively toward her chest and, and she found them empty.

She’d dropped the gun.

It was hardly more than a foot away from her feet. She started for it, but the glowing red mallet was right in her face and she froze. She couldn’t see the man’s face from where she was at, and that terrified her. Every inch of her body shook, and her stomach cartwheeled inside of her. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t fight.  She was sick. She’d cry. She’d throw up.

Touka, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t—

“Just give it up,” the man said. His voice wasn’t as loud as she expected it to be, but it was stern and it made her wince. “I don’t know what they’ve told you, but those creatures are incapable of being your friends. Do you know how many they’ve killed? How many loved ones they’ve left grieving? They killed my own friend, and once they’ve used you, you’ll be next. They’re monsters. There’s no reason for them to exist!”

She felt her lower lip tremble. Here she was, being talked down to like a dumb teenager who’d gotten into the wrong crowd, being lectured on what ghouls were. Part of her wished it were that simple. “What should we do then? Kill ourselves?” she asked, feeling her voice crack. She turned to him, and felt tears stream down her cheeks. “Because I already tried that.”

And his eyes widened, and he stepped back. Oh, she thought, feeling the crackle in her left eye. My kakugan must’ve activated.

The first blow smashed her into the wall, and the next few blinded her the way Touka breaking her fingers did. Immediately, she felt new limbs burst forward wildly, grabbing his weapon and pulling him forward. Suddenly her teeth were on him, ripping through his clothing and filling her mouth with the sweet taste of blood and flesh. It drove her wild, every nerve ending blazing with pleasure at the prospect of feeling full at last.

The hunger rushed over her, forgotten in day to day tasks but, like a healing wound, opening up and gushing from the damage she’d received and the taste in her mouth. She was starving.

Once more, she could hear Rize’s giggle. Strangely, though, it rumbled in her own throat.

Another blinding strike ended her bliss, and she hissed. Her kagune rushed forward on its own, cutting through bits of the investigator’s skin but missing all the vital areas as he dodged, from what she could see in her dotted vision. The smell of blood filled her nostrils, making her stomach wrench painfully.

“That hurt,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “That hurt me. Do you know what you did?”

The man didn’t get to answer because suddenly he had to block a blow, and he could only block one limb of the monster coming out of her back. The other one pulled him down by the ankle, making him land on his back.

“You hurt me,” she whined, her head not quite clear. Her body seemed to move on its own. “You just make me hungrier when you do that! And do you know how much it hurts to be hungry? I can’t stand it. I can’t!”

The kagune slammed him against the ground again. She felt her hands clasp around metal. The gun.

“But why do we need that?” Rize insisted, “We don’t want to kill him before we eat him. Living meat would be so much more delicious. Think about it: the heart still beating as you ripping it out, the blood flowing freely when you open the arteries… the struggle, the life…”

Yoriko’s mouth watered, and her head spun. She fumbled, the gun going in her back pocket.

“I can eat… just a little more of you right?” she asked, voice trembling. She was closer, leering over him. “I’m so hungry. It’s not my fault I’m hungry. Just a little… just a little…”

He jumped up, and suddenly she was smacked back to the concrete, her kagune flailing and her head dizzy from the new blow.

He said something between gasps for air.  Something about how he couldn’t believe he’d mistaken her for a regular human, how he couldn’t believe she’d acted like she had a conscience to fool him. She could hardly hear. She tried to block with her kagune but somehow he smashed through all her feeble strikes.

“I don’t have any more time to waste on weaklings like you,” he said.

Then he turned away. And in the haze of hunger and fear, she thought of Touka. And Hinami. And Mrs. Fueguchi’s bleeding corpse. The thought snapped her back to herself, driving the madness away. She knew, no matter what, that she couldn’t let him leave.

It was such a simple move, when he was that close, to grab his ankle with a weak tentacle, aim the gun that he hadn’t seen her pick up, and shoot. The bones shattered, and the man’s scream rang through the air. In his own shock and pain, another limb snatched his weapon and flung it far from him. He collapsed.

She gathered herself up and stood. The surprising thing was that he still tried to fight, standing on his good leg and trying to kick her with his broken ankle. She dodged easily, he fell over, and she re-aimed the gun, making him freeze.

“I… I…” she gulped. “I’m hungry.”

She could see the disgust in his features. She wanted to eat. Oh, how badly she wanted it, as Rize’s gleeful voice in her ear reminded her. She leaned forward for a moment, mouth opening and drool dripped down. Then, she stopped, closing it.

“I’m sorry… about your friend,” she mumbled. “But that woman your partner killed… she’d never killed a human being in her life.”

There wasn’t a change on his face. He didn’t believe her.

“She only ate corpses that were already dead. She was peaceful. There are ghouls like that. All she wanted was a good life for her daughter. Why should she have died? Why should her daughter die? Why should…?”

But she didn’t finish her sentence before he stood and lunged for the gun. She couldn’t believe it: ankle broken, weapon gone, body beaten, and he still tried to fight. Like some kind of manga character. Instead of pulling the trigger, she smacked him with it. His movements were sluggish enough from the pain that the defensive move was easy. Still, she shouted in frustration, partly at him and partly at the way her kagune lurched to rip him apart at the sudden movement. She thrashed them on the ground.

“Stop it! Don’t you get that I don’t want to kill you?!” she shrieked, “It’s so hard. I just want you to understand. I don’t want to kill anyone else! I already did that,” she started wailing, incoherent. “I was trying not to, don’t you see? I didn’t want to eat him! I don’t want to eat you.”

She babbled. It didn’t make sense to say any of this to a simple investigator, but then, she wasn’t. He wasn’t an investigator to her feverish mind. He was law, humanity, rightness—the order she’d grown up believing in. He was what her mother might have pointed to when she was a toddler: an authority, a protector.

But now he just looked like delicious, vulnerable food so Yoriko thrashed more and dug the sharp ends of her tentacles into the concrete.

“I tried to do the right thing! I really did,” she was sobbing, “But it’s so hard when you’re a ghoul. Falling doesn’t kill you. Drowning is too hard. And I just kept getting hungrier and hungrier. I couldn’t help myself. It’s not my… no, it is my fault.”

She couldn’t see the investigator much anymore. Everything was a smear in front of her eyes, blurred by the tears. She didn’t even know if this was real or not, but the hunger was real. She cried and bit her lip, doubling over and covering her face.

“It’s hurting again; I can’t stand it. Go away. You have to get away… or I’ll do it… again.”

She realized it as she said it. She was about to eat, and if there was no one to stop her, then she’d wake up again in a pile of entrails. That wasn’t something she’d allow.

“I’ll never run from a ghoul,” the man scoffed as proudly as he could from the ground.

Yoriko’s head twisted a little, and she could feel Rize grinning from within her. Shudders ran through her body. “Oh yes, that’s right…” she said, another twitched running through her arms and kagune. “I broke your leg. You can’t run.”

She bit her hand. The gesture wasn’t rushed or violent but eventually as she gnashed her teeth harder and harder she started to taste blood. It calmed her a bit, tasting her own blood. It tricked her hunger down—to an extent. Her kagune slowed their convulsions into little twitches.

Then, with every last bit of willpower she had, she ran.

When she came to herself, sweet blood dripped from her mouth and she could feel flecks of it over her skin. She was ripping through flesh, eyes closed, and she had to freeze. When she forced her eyes open and saw the torn remains in her hands, she lurched. A muffled cry escaped her as another bit of human made its way to her stomach.

Not again. Not again.

She curled up, breath hitching, throat burning from the quick, uncontrollably shallow breaths that followed. She was hyperventilating. In between the short rasping, she could feel a sob building up in her. It finally broke out, racking her entire body.

A hand clapped on her shoulder, breaking her out of her crying fit. “Kosaka, calm down.”

It was Yomo’s deep voice. She choked again in response.

“Yoriko, you didn’t kill anyone this time,” he said. “It was just a package the manager gave me.”

She didn’t believe him at first, but eventually the oxygen started to get back to her brain and her lungs stopped burning. He stayed by her, reassuring her as her senses slowly came back. There was a torn brown package on the ground beside her, the exact material that the people at Anteiku used to wrap up human meat.

“I didn’t…? I didn’t?” she gasped.

“No. You didn’t.”

She wiped the tears on her face with her sleeve.  “I really didn’t?”

“The investigator is still alive. Injured, but I doubt he’ll die from his wounds.”

It took a moment for it to sink it, but when it did she hugged the man and laughed tearfully. He stiffened and didn’t hug back, but she didn’t care.

“I didn’t,” she repeated breathlessly, “I—I didn’t kill anyone. Thank you.”

“Hm,” Yomo grunted uncomfortably.

She let go. Then, another thought struck her. “Touka,” she said, voice still low and hoarse. “Touka—we have to go help her!”

“Do you know where she went?”

Yoriko nodded. “This way.”

Amon had to drag himself up to the wall and support himself against it as he limped away to get help. Each movement sent another jolt of pain running through him, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He had to get medical help as soon as possible. The least he could do was try to make sure he wouldn’t be useless as an investigator, since he wouldn’t even be able to go and aid Mado in battle.

When the enemy is before you, you fight, even if it costs you your arm or your leg.

Mado’s words rung in his head with each new stab of pain. Wise words. Amon had sworn to do exactly that, just as the older man had said, and yet... what did you do if the enemy ran away? When they’d beaten you only to cry like a lost child?

He’d thought it was human at first. He’d been certain. Not just because of the weapon, so useless to a ghoul, but the way it had shook and hesitated at first. What ghoul would hesitate, after all? What ghoul would shake and weep instead of shooting or striking immediately?

The young ghoul’s words pulsed through his head like the pain in his ankle. He tried to dismiss them, but they kept coming back. She’d already killed someone, but the Fueguchi ghoul hadn’t. She’d tried to kill herself. There were peaceful ghouls. All patently ridiculous, and yet… the ghoul had let him go, hadn’t it? Perhaps it was an elaborate ploy, some sort of manipulation meant to weaken him for some plot in the future.

Besides, she’d admitted to killing and eating someone already. Any other information was irrelevant.

He shook his head. He had no time for this. He had to call for help immediately.

Mr. Mado. Forgive me… I won’t be able to aid you tonight. Please survive.

“I just wanna live… same as you.”

Yoriko barely arrived in time to hear those broken words rasped out. They were soft, quiet, but they echoed through the tunnel and pierced the air. She stopped, heart leaping into her throat.

Oh, Touka, she almost murmured, heartbroken. In the darkness, she could barely make out the image of her friend pinned bloodily to the wall with—with—

Mrs. Ryouko.

Her eyes widened at the image, anger spiking through her limbs.

“I’ve hear enough of this,” the dove sneered, “Time to—”

He didn’t get to finish. Yoriko threw herself at him. He had to whirl around to strike back at her, throwing her back. Yoriko flew, losing all direction in the tumble, but in a flash of vision she could see that the blow against her had forced the investigator to release Touka from where she was pinned. Her head promptly smacked against the floor.

“Oh, we have another one here?” the man asked in a voice that made shivers run up her spine. “Well, that’s great! Do you want to watch me skewer your friend here, Rabbit? Or should you go first?”

She heard a spat, and smiled. Even Touka’s disgusted noises were distinct: she could tell it was her without even seeing her. Slowly, she struggled up, only to barely dodge another strike.

“Your friend here is pretty weak! I bet she’d make a terrible quinque. You—”

He didn’t have time to finish that sentence either, because in a moment Yomo had made his move: not attacking the investigator himself, but severing the quinque that had Hinami pinned the wall. The man whirled around again.

“And another?” he asked, his voice losing a little bit of the manic glee from before. “Quite the group here.”

Yomo didn’t say anything in response. She couldn’t even see him in the darkness of the place. For a moment, there wasn’t a sound. Everyone held their breath, waiting for someone else to move first. The investigator surveyed his surroundings with a stale grin.

“Leave,” Yoriko said, “You’re outnumbered, and your partner isn’t coming. He’s lying out injured on the pavement, bleeding out. Don’t you think you should go help him?”

At that, the grin turned into an animalistic snarl. “You think you ghouls can use that against me? As though you know a thing about us. As though…”

But Yoriko didn’t wait. She pulled out the handgun, and fired a shot at him. It missed, but it was enough to make him fall back, eyes twitching in an attempt to see the shots. Touka took that as a cue, leaping and firing more shots from her kagune. He barely blocked in time, and snarled again.

The next few moments passed in a blur. Yomo led the attack from the shadows, saying nothing but effectively driving the man back while Touka’s attacks, though weakened, provided back-up. Yoriko slowly inched backward, and threw her arm around Hinami the moment she got to her. The young ghoul responded by collapsing on her and sobbing.

“Mom… he’s using Mom…”

She squeezed the girl tight and felt her shirt get soaked. “It’ll be okay, Hinami,” she murmured, though it wasn’t and she didn’t know how anything could ever be okay again for the girl. “It’ll be fine.”

Something slithered around her in the dark. Her body shuddered in revulsion for a moment, but calmed as she realized what it was: a pair of butterfly wings and a scorpion’s tail wrapping around her in a hug. Hinami’s kagune had just come out. It tightened around her uncomfortably, but she smiled.

“Hinami,” she said, a thought just occurring to her, “Hinami, look. It’s your mother’s kagune.”

Hinami looked up, sniffling. Her eyes widened, and Yoriko loosened her hold.

“See? What happened to your mother… to your parents… is unforgivable. They might have taken them away. But the important part of them is here, with you. And no one can take that away or use it for evil.”

She saw Hinami’s lip wobble more in the dark. She cried loud and long, still clutching Yoriko as she did so. Yoriko sighed, feeling tears fall down her own cheeks. Tears of relief, this time, to have the other girl so safe and close to her. She hugged her again—the way she wished she could hug her own sister—clutching her until all the tears had fallen and everything was right.

A crash and a frustrated howl brought them both back to reality, it was Touka, her silhouette barely restrained by Yomo’s at the mouth of the tunnel.

“Fuck—fuck!” Touka screamed, “He’s getting away! Get him! Fucking kill him!”

They couldn’t hear Yomo’s response, but it was clear enough that he refused to go after the man. Touka collapsed on hearing it. Maybe it was her finally giving in to her wounds, or maybe it was her reaction to whatever he said, but the result was clear enough.

The investigator got away. Yoriko’s stomach turned cold as the implications washed over her.

“I can’t do that, Touka,” he said, “It’s bad enough that so many of us gathered to fight him. He’ll be harder on our trail as it is. If I go out there and my mask is recognized, it’ll draw even more attention to this ward.”

“Kill him before he reports, then!” she hissed back. “He…”

“It’s likely that his partner has already called for back-up by this point. It’s not something we can risk.”

“I’ll do it then,” she mumbled, “I’ll kill him.”

“You’re too injured.”

She collapsed. He had to hold her up. “He’s… he’s the one behind the investigation. If we don’t kill him, Hinami won’t be—she won’t be safe.”

“She will be. We’ll make sure of it. But now she needs you with her, not out getting yourself killed for revenge.”

Touka gasped with pain, and looked back. Yoriko and Hinami were kneeling on the ground, embracing each other. Their gazes were turned toward her, though, eyes wide and haunting. For a moment she shivered. They’d all seen enough corpses, if she didn’t come back to them, if she became just another corpse stacked on top of the ones they’d already seen—

She pulled herself up, and stumbled back.

“Yoriko, Hinami….”

When they got back to Anteiku, the manager was waiting for him. Once they were alone, Touka broke down.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “You were right. Going after them was a dumb idea. I accomplished nothing. And I dragged Yoriko into it too. Now it’ll probably get worse, and it’ll all be my fault but…”

She grit her teeth, and tried to meet the old man’s eyes. Her own burned familiarly.

“Please don’t send Hinami away. Please.”

The old man looked and her, and then he smiled.

“We won’t,” he told her, patting her on the shoulder, “Here at Anteiku, we help our fellow ghouls out. Remember? It was foolish of me to forget that.”

Her eyes had been burning before, but now they leaked, tears streaming slowly down her cheeks.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

Hinami’s crying had passed the point of being able to create wet tears by the time she came out. She set to preparing coffee while Yoriko whispered soothing words to her in her occasional dry sobs. When they’d finished the coffee, Hinami gulped it down and Yoriko silently let Touka take her place by the younger girl’s side. She then stayed in the room, her quiet presence warming the room.

“Do you need to get home, now?” Touka asked, “Your family will notice if you’re out too long.”

“Yes, but…” Yoriko said, “Just… is there anything else you all need?”

Touka shook her head. She might have smiled, but she was sure that she was too exhausted for that. So instead, she just managed, “No. You should get home.”

Yoriko smiled weakly in response, and turned to leave. The door closed gently behind her, and Touka found her eyes lingering, watching Yoriko’s form as she disappeared into the early morning. Then, as though struck by lighting, she jumped up.

“Hold on,” she mumbled to Hinami as she ran out the door.

Yoriko was stumbling away. Touka called after her, and felt an uncomfortable rush as the girl turned her head.

“Touka?”

“I just,” Touka started, and stopped, “I forgot to thank you. And… and you’re okay too, right?”

The smile Yoriko gave was soft, but genuine. Yoriko was really beautiful, smiling like that in the faint morning light. It was excruciating, seeing her like that and realizing how easily it all could be torn from her. She felt like telling her that, but instead smacked the side of her own head. Yoriko lifted her eyebrows.

“Are you okay, Touka?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice a little hoarse, “I just… I don’t know what to say.”

She imagined being a guy, being able to pull the other girl into a kiss. She stomped the thought out. She wasn’t weird or anything, but… she had dragged Yoriko into her own shitty mistake, and yet the girl was alive and well, and still smiling so lovingly. It made her heart feel like it was on the verge of being ripped apart and yet also like it was about to soar. Somehow this—thanking, smiling, nodding—was excruciatingly inadequate. She just wished there was some way to shower her with this intense affection without weirding her out.

If I were a guy, I’m sure I’d be in love with you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Yoriko said, interrupting her thoughts, “I—thank you. See you tomorrow?”

“Y-yeah.”

Yoriko left. Touka’s fists clenched, and she returned to Anteiku without glancing back.

Amon preferred battle to the slow, tedious uselessness of recovery. Sitting in the hospital bed, foot and ankle in a cast, he felt himself becoming restless. The doctor had reassured him that his ankle had been reconstructed enough for him to continue his work as an investigator, but only after months of hard recovery. It was hardly acceptable to him. Not only would he be wasting away, losing all his hard-earned muscle from inaction, but sitting there, with scarcely a friend to visit him, he’d have too much time to ruminate.

Specifically, to ruminate about a certain encounter with a crying ghoul that still made him feel sick with doubt, no matter how much he tried to shake it off.

Did you really try to kill yourself before, Eyepatched ghoul? Or was that a lie to throw me off guard?

Luckily, this particular moment, the door opened and in hobbled Kureo Mado, grinning from ear to ear. The sight made him lean back with relief.

“Ah, good morning Amon,” the man said, “Do you mind if I speak to you for a while?”

“You’re uninjured.”

“For the most part,” he said, “I got some nasty scratches, but nothing too serious.”

The old man plopped down by his bed, still grinning.

“Do you remember what I told you? ‘When the enemy is before you, you fight, even if it costs you your arm and your leg?’”

Amon nodded, wondering if was going to be chastised for losing the fight.

“Well, I didn’t follow my own advice,” he said, laughing. “Would you like to know why?”

“Were you outnumbered?”

“No—well, yes,” the man said, thinking aloud. “But the real thing is: I noticed some interesting things. Interesting things that made me think it would be a shame if I didn’t get back to tell them to anyone. For instance, what would you think if I said there might be a clandestine ghoul organization situated in the 20^th ward?”

Amon blinked. “Sir? What makes you say that?”

“Patience, patience,” the man said, still grinning. “How about we share stories? Tell me, Amon, how exactly did you break your ankle?”

Amon hesitated for a moment, shoving aside his misgivings about the incident. Then, as professionally as he could, he recounted his story.

Chapter Text

The smell of her mother’s cooking thickly clouded the kitchen. She rubbed her nose, trying to conceal her revulsion. Not that she wasn’t grateful her mother had offered to make her breakfast. Not that she wasn’t relieved she didn’t have to cook it herself after scarcely three hours of sleep. She just couldn’t stand it. Her sense of smell had adapted to warn her that the meal wasn’t edible to her, and for whatever reason her ghoul-senses were jacked up, probably from the adrenaline of last night.  It smelled to her now the way a pile of dog food had to her when she was human: disgusting, just a bit sickening. Still, she smiled.

I’m back home. Safe. For now.

Sumiko slunk into a seat beside her, so quiet that Yoriko twitched a little in surprise when she turned to see her there. Her sister kept her head down, hands resting in fists on her lap.

“Good morning, Sumi.”

“Hm.”

Her throat ached. “You okay?”

Sumiko nodded. There wasn’t anything else Yoriko could say to her, not with their mother in the room. And even if she could, her eyelids were heavy and her head was starting to drop every other minute, her neck muscles too tired to keep it up. She couldn’t form the right words to say, not when she was this exhausted.

In between some heavy blinks, she saw her mother turn her head over her shoulder, her eyes flashing on her.

“Are you okay, Yori? Did you get a good sleep last night?”

“Um… yeah.”

Sumiko hadn’t told her mother anything. Yoriko hadn’t even considered the possibility of her telling until now, but she hadn’t. It made her breathe a sigh of relief, her eyes sliding gently shut.

“Are you sure?” her mother asked, disrupting her sleepily drifting thoughts.

“Uh—sleep?” she asked, cracking her eyes open a little, “Oh. I meant no. No, I didn’t get a lot of sleep. Bad dreams. Um,” Yoriko paused, wondering if anything she’d said made sense. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, dear. Anything you want to talk about?”

“No, no… it’s… it’s fine.”

Sumiko watched her throughout the day. Yoriko waited for questions, but they never came. Instead, she kept her eyes on the floor until Yoriko turned away. Then, the half-ghoul could see her sister’s stare turn to her in the corner of her own eye.

Sumiko plopped on the floor in her room with a book after school, saying nothing. Yoriko looked over her for a moment, feeling her forehead crease. She honestly couldn’t tell if her sister was angry, worried, sad, or what.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” she asked softly.

Sumiko’s lips tightened into a straight line. Angry it was, then. Yoriko sighed and settled into her covers, hoping that tomorrow or maybe the day after she’d have the right thing to say to her sister.

“I’m really sorry. Goodnight.”

She turned over, and fell fast asleep.

Her dreams were yellow, green, and black again. They bled red at the first touch. She broke the investigator against the pavement, beat him against it like an unresponsive dirty rug. Then she was tearing into him, peeling the warm flesh from his bones.

Red. Yellow. Green. Black. She looked up, and it wasn’t the area she’d fought the investigator in. It was the alley—that alley. The body in front of her moved, skinless, reaching its near skeletal hand toward her. Her body moved on its own, smashing the hand until the ground smeared with blood and bits of flesh fell off. The corpse still moved, and she kept smashing.

Stop, she tried to call out, Stop it, stop it, I don’t want to do this! This is too cruel. This isn’t me.

But her body moved on its own, until the bones had been ground to dust and the flesh had turned to red-pink pulp. It was only when the head turned up to look at her that it stopped. Brown eyes, teary and blurred with pain. Nothing like the investigator’s. Not like—

She woke up, heart thrumming in her chest. She doubled over, rasping for air.

That’s right. I haven’t been back there, yet.

After a few minutes, she lay back, closing her eyes. She’d quieted herself, but her pulse still raced hotly in her ears, ripping through her veins as she drifted away.

Tomorrow, there was someplace she had to visit.

She’d seen people talking to gravestones in movies. There was one scene in particular that came to mind: a woman talking to her dead boyfriend, falling to her knees and weeping over all the things she didn’t get to say to him, finally resting her head against the granite and falling asleep with a soft smile as she heard his voice in her dreams.

Yoriko wondered if one could really get closure from that—talking to a dead body six feet under the earth. Not that it really mattered: this wasn’t really a grave, in that sense. There wasn’t a dead body here, not even a part of it unless blood stains counted. And she wasn’t the dead man’s loved one; she wasn’t even a friend. She was the opposite: his murderer. If the man’s spirit still lingered, she doubted it would be here, or that it would wake to listen to her. Still, she took a deep breath, and talked.

“Um, hey,” she whispered. “I came to… to…”

She stopped. The river behind them roared. There wasn’t a response. The grave—or rather, the rock she’d placed over a bloodied jacket and a dead person’s phone—was silent.

She started again: “I just…”

This was silly. There was nothing left to talk to, and she didn’t know what she’d say if there were. What could she really say to the man she’d killed? She remembered feeling him between her teeth, waking up to see his guts spilled all over the alley. Her stomach turned. She clenched her fist.

If I could really talk to his ghost, what would I say?

“I… got into my first fight, recently,” she said. There wasn’t anyone around, but she lowered her voice anyway, so no one would hear. “I… I wasn’t always a ghoul. You didn’t know that. But I’d never fought anyone before. You were the first person I…” her face convulsed, and she didn’t finish the sentence. “I’m not really used to living like a ghoul, fighting and all that. But I fought recently. Because I wanted to be there for a friend, and because I wanted to protect a little girl. They’re both ghouls, but they deserve to live too. I wonder if you’d understand that. I wonder…”

Her breath shuddered as she inhaled this time.

“I didn’t kill the investigator—the human that was threatening my friends,” she said, “I could have, but I didn’t. Is that… good? Would that make you happy, knowing that? What…”

Her voice had gotten louder. The wobble in it was barely audible.

“What sort of life would I have to lead to make you satisfied? What would I have to do? Would you tell me to turn myself in? Would you want me to contact your family, to tell them what happened? Would living peacefully do it? Should I try to save people to make up for it? I…” she felt her eyes tearing up, “I don’t know what I should do.”

She sat down for a moment, and turned her head up to the sky. She couldn’t feel any sort of presence here listening to her. She didn’t know him well enough to imagine what he’d say. So instead, she just rested. For a moment she closed her eyes. She could see the man’s face in her memory, features still sharp despite the blur of time and forgetfulness. She wondered if one day she wouldn’t remember at all, if his face would just be a blur and the sting of the incident would fade into nothing.

It would have to be a long time from now, for that to happen.

She got up. “I’m just going to try not to hurt anyone else. Beyond that, I…” she stopped.

She wondered if she could find a way to make up for it, balance out the wrong she’d done with some kind of good, make the man’s death at least mean something. If she could make her life a force for good in the world, if she could accomplish something, then maybe the guilt could balance out. But what could she do?

She wiped her eyes of the tiny tears that had leaked out, and walked away. She didn’t know if she’d accomplished anything with this visit, didn’t know what she’d hoped to accomplish anyway. Make herself feel better? She certainly didn’t, though she didn’t feel worse either. Just empty, hollow.

What am I supposed to do with my life now? Is it really okay to just keep going like this?

The question lingered after her, hounded her steps as she walked home.

Touka was ready to kill the next human that walked into Anteiku.

The bell rang as the door to Anteiku opened. People swirled sugar into their coffee, creating tiny metal rings as their spoons hit the insides of their china cups. Leather shoes scraped against the doormat. Clothing brushed against the chairs. People moved. They spoke, teeth clacking together. They breathed. And Touka could hear all of it, or she could almost swear she could, the racket clattering in her brain just underneath the pulse rushing in her own ears.

It had been days since the encounter with the investigators. The fucker that killed Hinami’s parents still was alive. The thought kept her awake at night and sharpened her senses for the day. Any ring of Anteiku’s doorbell could be the end, so her nerves jumped every time, at every tiny noise reverberating off the walls. Her senses burned like an overstimulated electrical circuit, but there wasn’t an off-switch for this adrenaline fueled sensitivity. She could only wait, watching and hearing everything.

Perhaps it was for the best. It didn’t take long for a ghoul to go from living contentedly to cut up on the floor of some alley, after all. That thought was the electricity in her, pulsing brutally through the synapses in her brain.

Still, she thought she might rip out her own eardrums any minute, just to make it stop. But she couldn’t do that. There was Yoriko, Hinami and Yoshimura to think of. There was the entire Anteiku staff. They would be upset of she ripped out any of her own body parts for relief.

A few years ago, she might have run through the city at night, tearing off the head of any ghoul or human that gave her shit to get rid of this anxiety. Now that wasn’t an option. She’d drawn enough attention to herself and Anteiku. She couldn’t afford that level of irresponsibility now, so she just had to sit and stew underneath her customer-friendly smile.

She didn’t think Yoriko was doing that much better. Yoriko smiled too, but her eyes had dark circles around them when she came in, always muttering something about her mother or sister while finishing it off with a weak laugh and a quick “It’s not really a big deal.” Then she’d look out the window and start rubbing her cheek with her index finger, frowning.

They were both frayed and worn. So Touka wasn’t surprised at Yoriko’s offer, when it came.

“We should go out Sunday—take a day off work and just get away from it all,” she said, “I was thinking… maybe the zoo?”

“Um.” Touka didn’t feel like going to the zoo. Or anywhere, for that matter. She wasn’t sure if she could have fun at all right then. Yoriko seemed to read it all on her face.

“Just to relax,” she blurted, nervously. “I mean, some kind of outing. It doesn’t have to be the zoo. Maybe just somewhere calm, picturesque. You know?”

“Well,” Touka thought for a moment, then sighed. “Sure. We can go.”

They didn’t end up doing much. They made plans for several different stops, but once they got to the park they ended up lying on the grass, too lethargic to do anything else.

“Sorry,” Touka said, “I’m really boring today.”

“It’s fine,” Yoriko said, yawning, “This is actually really nice. I don’t think I want to walk anymore, either.”

Touka stared at the clouds for a moment, trying to think of something to say. Instead, the passing clouds lulled her thoughts into a quiet repose. When they’d both been quiet a little too long to be comfortable, she turned to see Yoriko’s eyes fixed on her. She looked down at the other girl’s wrist.

“You’re wearing the bracelet I got you,” Touka said, feeling her lips tug into a smile.

Yoriko’s hand shot up. Touka could see her cheeks redden. “Uh-huh,” she said, “I thought… you know, it might be a nice time to wear it.”

Touka sighed, thinking about that time. Their outing after Yoriko had gotten out of the hospital. She’d been so worried then, terrified of how pale her friend had seemed, confused at how Rize’s scent clung to her. Since then, though, Yoriko had started to bloom, slowly coming out of her shell and taking steps to on her own two feet. Thinking on it, Touka could see hope, a sort of promise.

Things can get better, even if they’re broken down.

Yoriko had been looking at her the whole time. Touka’s eyes focused and she noticed it. Yoriko glanced away for a moment.

“What are you thinking about?” Touka asked.

“Um, not really anything,” her friend replied, “What about you?”

Touka looked back up, focusing on the sky. Not knowing how to explain her thoughts to Yoriko, she looked for something else, closing her eyes.

“I’m thinking that I’d be a lot happier right now if I had killed that guy.”

She didn’t open her eyes or turn to see Yoriko’s reaction to that. Still, she heard a soft, depressed, “Hm.”

“If you had fought… instead of going to Hinami, I mean. If you’d fought with us, we could have taken that bastard down, even when he was running away.”

She was pretty sure Yoriko had stopped breathing beside her. She turned her head over in response. The lighter haired girl gulped uncomfortably, opening her mouth to respond. “I… I just…”

“It’s fine,” she cut her off, “I shouldn’t have even mentioned it. It’s not your problem, anyway. You made it clear you didn’t want to kill anyone from the start. I get that. It’s admirable. I just…”

She blew out air, frustrated. Yoriko finished for her. “It’s really frightening… knowing they’re still out there to get Hinami. To get us.”

“Yeah,” Touka said. “That one guy, especially. He’s dangerous. He’s smart, and he’s going to try to track us down again. It won’t be pretty if he catches up.”

Yoriko grimaced. “I’m…”

“We’ll deal with it when it comes,” she told her. “That’s what the manager said. We’ll find a way.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and Yoriko laughed. “Look at us, talking about killing people. Can’t we talk about something normal, like we used to?”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Touka said. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Uh… well, got any funny stories?”

“Hmm,” Touka thought. Then it came to her, and she groaned. “Oh, man. Well, there’s one thing that happened a while ago…”

“What is it?” Yoriko asked brightly.

“It’s so embarrassing,” she muttered, covered her face with her hand and rubbing her eyes. Hopefully she wasn’t flushing. “I was nearly convinced that you and Rize were a couple. Like, dating each other and… you know.”

Yoriko didn’t reply, but Touka filled up the silence with awkward laughter. “Stupid, right? I blame Koma and Irimi. I kept smelling Rize on you and I didn’t know what it meant. So I asked them, and they were all like, ‘Well, do you know what your friend’s preferences are?’ And I was like, ‘What the fuck are you even saying? Preferences for what?’ And they just looked at each other. Then they started talking about how Rize had a reputation for going after young women, both to eat and to… do other things with. Ugh. Koma was like, ‘There’s only one way for someone’s scent to stick to someone else so long, you know.’ And then he did the eyebrow thing. You know. That eyebrow thing. Like this.”

She turned and demonstrated to Yoriko, but instead of laughter all she got was a frozen look. It only lasted a second though, and then her friend gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah… Koma’s really funny,” she said, swallowing, voice subdued. “So that’s why you were telling me to stay away from Rize…”

Oh shit. Touka wanted to smack herself. “Not that you come off as some weirdo pervert like her! Just… agh, I didn’t have any other explanation at the time so I started to think. Stuff. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even brought it up. Well, I didn’t actually think you were weird like that, anyway, it just crossed my mind because of how they were acting about it.”

She couldn’t read the other girl’s expression. “Weird, like…?”

“You know. Weird like Rize.”

Yoriko’s expression was flat for a few seconds. Then her face shifted, eyes blinking widely, gleaming with mock innocence. “’Weird’? Is ‘lesbian’ the word you’re looking for?”

Touka felt her face heat up. “I—uh.”

Her friend giggled. “You can say it, you know? Les-bi-an.”

She found herself tongue-tied. Her friend found this hysterical, burying her face in her arm and giggling.

“Oh my,” she said, “Foul-mouthed Touka can’t say one itsy-bitsy word. Are you blushing?”

“Shut up,” Touka grumbled.

“Lesbian, lesbian, les-bi-an,” Yoriko sang.

Touka smacked her own face in embarrassment. “Oh, quit it.”

She could remember the first time she’d heard that word. It was right after finding Ayato’s stash of porn. She’d been so disgusted—with him, for watching the stuff when he was hardly ten, with the stuff itself for just how fucking degrading it all was, and for herself because she’d found it by accidentally putting the shit in their shitty T.V. and somehow forgetting to stop until it was all over. She’d practically felt sick afterwards, uneasiness worming through her tomach. Ayato had been furious when she smashed the discs—that hadn’t been one of their better moments together. Finding out about people like Rize made her disgusted that people actually lived up to those sick fantasies. Gross.

Yoriko was still laughing at her, the sound strangely thin and hysterical. Touka leaned over her and knocked her on the head lightly.

“Ow!”

“That’s what you get.”

Yoriko’s giggles turned shallow, her face reddening, and Touka found herself smiling back. She thought of tickling her for a minute. Then she noticed how she’d positioned herself: right above her friend, arms practically caging her in. She withdrew immediately, hands snapping to her sides.

Shit, shit, she’ll think I’m weird. Great move Touka, practically pouncing on her after talking about lesbians. Why the fuck did I bring up Rize? Fuck, fuck.

She snatched her bag and rose before things could get awkward. “I’m bored now. Let’s walk.”

She didn’t wait for Yoriko to follow or look back at her, but she heard the other girl scramble up. “Touka, wait!”

On the way back while the sun was dipping over the horizon, the tension in the air between them evened out and Touka ended up telling her about her father and Ayato. She kept it short, clipped down to the essential facts. She only said that much because Yoriko asked and it would be stupid to keep it from her at this point. She didn’t turn to look at her friend as she spoke, but she could hear the sympathy in her voice.

“That’s… so awful. I’m sorry.”

She bristled. Yoriko hadn’t said anything wrong, but she never knew how to respond to this sympathy and well-wishing. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, “It’s been a while. They’re both gone. I’ve moved on.”

Lies. But lies she had to tell, because telling Yoriko she still woke up sometimes feeling like her heart had been ripped out because of them wasn’t acceptable. The amount of puppy-doggedness in Yoriko’s eyes once she glanced over was already unbearable. If she broke down more she didn’t think she could survive the pity-storm.

“How old is your brother?”

“The same age as your sister, pretty much.”

She could practically feel the horror in Yoriko’s silence. “That’s awful,” she repeated quietly.

“Mm,” she said. It was hard to think of Ayato as being the same age as Yoriko’s sister. The human girl was squishy, nervous, and weak while Ayato was angry and fierce. Still, she felt her heart wring ove how dumb and young he was, immature enough to get into this shit and immature enough that she was worried sick for him.

“I hope you get to see him again,” Yoriko said softly.

“Mm. Yeah,” she replied, though she didn’t really know what that sort of meeting would entail.

They were almost at Anteiku when Touka broke the silence again. “What are you thinking?”

“Hm? Oh. I was thinking about the future,” Yoriko said, her eyes forward. “I always wanted to be a cook… but with everything that’s happened I don’t know anymore. I can’t enjoy it the way I used to. But making food, watching people enjoy it… I don’t want to give that up either. And, with all this ghoul stuff and everything that’s happened, I thought…”

She trailed off. “What is it?” Touka asked.

“Well, I was wondering if maybe I could find a way to make food for ghouls.” Yoriko turned to her, eyes bright. “Food that isn’t made from humans. Maybe synthetic meat? If I studied biology for ghouls and humans, maybe I could piece together a way to get ghouls nourishment without them having to kill. I think it could save lives. It could… help me make up a little, that way.”

In the dim, dusky light, Touka could see Yoriko’s eyes tear up a bit. “Yoriko, that’s…”

Impossible. Never gonna happen. Stupid. Naïve. Wishful thinking.

“That’s a great idea,” she said, “If you want to study that, then go for it.  That’s really noble of you. But you don’t have to make up for anything.”

Yoriko shrugged quietly. “I feel like… it’s something I should at least try to do.”

They continued walking, and parted ways once the sun had slipped behind the buildings of Tokyo.

Despite everything that had happened since the date with Rize, walking into the living room after hanging out with Touka to see a report on the news about their against the investigators was a special kind of unsettling. It wasn’t something Yoriko had prepared herself for, so she just found herself frozen in front of the screen.

“The official report states that no more than two ghouls assaulted the investigators, nicknamed the Rabbit and Eyepatch. However rumors have sprung up surrounding the incident. Some are contesting…”

There was something shifting on the couch in the corner of her eye. She turned to see Sumiko slouched there, eyes glowing with the reflection of the screen. Her stomach flipped, and goosebumps ran down her arm. It would be so easy for Sumiko to connect the dots here: the night of the incident was the same night her sister had seen her run out, after all. They would have to have to report the date, the time… and it was in the same ward… not to mention the eyepatch.

Oh god.

She snatched the remote and flipped off the T.V. Sumiko jumped.

“I was watching that!” she said, the pitch of her voice raising. “What are you doing?”

Yoriko felt her lip tremble. She bit it and looked at her sister. Sumiko was looking her right in the eyes, sitting up from where she’d practically been laying down before. Yoriko’s teeth dug harder into her lip.

“How about we play a game?” she asked, finally, “We haven’t done anything together in a while.”

“No,” she said, “I want to watch the news.”

Yoriko paused. Maybe all she needed to do was stall, keep the T.V. off until that particular report finished. “But you don’t even like the news.”

“I want to watch it,” Sumiko insisted.

“Why?”

Her sister didn’t answer but reached for the remote. “Give it to me. You’re not being fair.”

She knew she wasn’t, but her head was racing too fast for her to give that thought more than a second. How much did Sumiko know? She could’ve guessed already, at least that Yoriko was involved somehow. It was an obvious conclusion, so obvious that it scared her. Maybe she should address it, give some sort of explanation to tide her sister over. Then again, maybe it wasn’t so obvious. Maybe it was only obvious to her because she already knew—and then, Sumiko wasn’t like other people. She focused on strange things, ignoring everything else, so things that seemed obvious to other people weren’t always so to her.

If only she talked more. If only I knew what she was thinking. If only…

“Yori? You’re acting weird. Yoriko?”

She shook herself. “Um, yeah. Sumi, we should…”

“Never mind,” she said, handing the remote back, “I’m sorry.”

She felt her sister’s eyes on her back as she walked out of the room.

Amon hated walking around in crutches, but it was better than lying in a hospital bed. At the very least, he could pace around, get some meagre exercise, and make himself useful back at headquarters. It had only been a day since his release from the hospital, but he felt it was already time to head back, try to get all the paperwork on the Rabbit case done. Not to mention all the reporting he had to do on Eyepatch.

The young ghoul still occupied his thoughts. Mado had dismissed his concerns quickly and logically. “Peaceful” ghouls, he said, probably meant ghouls too weak to fight others or investigators. They were peaceful not by choice, but by lack of ability.

“Perhaps there’s some sort of coalition between these weaker ghouls. A way for them to survive without being able to hunt as much,” he remembered his partner musing. “At any rate, the suicide business is likely nonsense. I’m disappointed, Amon. You should know better.”

Still, Amon had doubts, and he brooded over them as he hobbled through the CCG lobby on his crutches, a stray bit of conversation reaching his ears.

“So humans and ghouls have never worked together?”

He stopped, and turned. In the lobby seat, were two people: an office lady who often dealt with questions from the public, and a smaller figure seated across from her. It seemed to be a young girl about middle-school age. Her eyes were focused down on a notepad, not even glancing up as the representative spoke.

“There aren’t any cases I know of, no. Ghouls are animalistic, too focused on obtaining their next meal to form any such alliance. They would probably eat any human they could work with before it even occurred to them they could be allies.”

“Okay, but… it’s not impossible, right?”

“I think it’s highly unlikely.”

The girl nodded. “Um. Something else… has a human every thought they were a ghoul?”

“What?”

“Like… a psychological disorder or something,” she said, “They have a delusion that they’re a ghoul, so they stop eating human food. And start drinking coffee a lot and stuff. Maybe they’d make friends with ghouls after that. Has there ever been anyone like that?”

“No, never,” the woman laughed. “Where would you get an idea like that?”

The girl lowered her head a little more, not answering. “Okay. So how do you tell someone is a ghoul? I mean, I know about the eating and coffee thing, but is there a DNA test?”

“We have RC scanners. They can detect a ghoul when the ghoul walks by. We have some installed in the entrance to the building.”

“Mm,” the girl nodded again, “So what if I just had, like, a little piece of someone? Like hair or something.”

“I’m sorry, but we like to keep more specific information on how our equipment works to ourselves. If knowledge about how these things work gets out, it’ll make it easier for ghouls to find a way to get past them. So I can’t tell you things like that.”

“But…”

The girl stopped, her head jerking slightly to the side. Her hands clenched her notepad tighter, and Amon realized he had been noticed. Her head turned farther down. After a moment, the girl sat up quickly. “Okay. That’s all I need to know. Bye.”

Amon watched as the girl snatched a flyer and walked stiffly out, leaving the office lady trying to mutter a polite goodbye after her. By the time he’d realized the girl was about the same age and height as the Fueguchi daughter, and his suspicions had kicked in, she was already out the door.

“That girl?” the office lady offered when he asked, “Oh, she was just asking about the Rabbit case. She wants to write a report on it for a school project, or something.”

Amon narrowed his eyes after the door.

Humans and Ghouls, huh?

He decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. The girl’s hair was darker than the Fueguchi ghoul, and the glimpse he’d seen of her face was entirely different. Still, he watched as she disappeared into the crowd outside, Then, he turned back and headed for the office.

Mado wasn’t letting work go undone, and neither would he.

Chapter Text

They spoke in the armory. Amon didn’t have any business there, not really, but he followed Mado anyway, exchanging information that felt more like pleasant conversation than actual business. Mado wanted to casually rehash all the information he’d reported for the ghoul that Amon had run into last time, so they focused on that.

“So,” Mado said after a while, “A rather talkative ghoul, this Eyepatch.”

Amon nodded stiffly. Mado patted him on the arm, not tall enough to reach his back.

“Don’t worry yourself, Amon. Increased cunning is likely a defense mechanism for ghouls that are weak, or who can’t control their kagune at will. Of course it would try and fake weakness to throw you off guard, to prey on human emotion. How else would it survive?”

Amon sighed. “You must be right.”

“I’m disappointed Amon,” Mado said, but he said it playfully, “Already, your faith is shaken? I can’t wait to meet this Eyepatch of yours.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Coffee shops,” Mado explained. “Coffee shops are some of the best places to spot ghouls. Next best after outright hunting them in the gutters they live in and even better when you’re hunting in a peaceful area. There’s a whole art to picking ghouls out of coffee shops.”

Amon nodded as Mado explained his plans, paying attention even though he knew he wouldn’t be participating because of his injured leg. Soon, Mado had selected all his tools, and he grinned.

“You know, Amon, perhaps you should meet my daughter sometime,” he said, “I think the two of you would get along.” 

“Sir…?”

“I think that new restaurant place—hmm, what it’s called? Anyway, I thought that might be a good place for the three of us to spend an afternoon. What do you think?”

Amon stared a moment. Then, he shook himself. He thought he heard affection in Mado’s tone. “Whatever you say, sir.”

Mado grinned and nodded as he left the armory.

"You're not going to take you're quinque?" Amon asked.

Mado stopped, turning over his shoulder and letting his grin widen. "An investigator is always prepared, Amon. Just not always in the way they expect."

With that, he left.

Touka roared as she ripped through Yomo’s back, forcing him to stumble forward. She didn’t get to enjoy it long. In an instant, Yomo had whirled on her, smacking her on the ground hard enough for her eardrums to flood with the force of the blow. She rolled for a moment, almost curling into a ball. Then, she felt Yomo’s hand take hers.

“Come on. Take a break.”

Her vision came back slowly as he helped her up. She half-grinned, half-grimaced. That was the first real hit she’d gotten on Yomo in a while. Still he stood straight, hardly phased by the blow. It would be a long time until she got on his level.

“You’re improving,” Yomo told her, “But why are you training this hard?”

She spat, messaging her temples. “Don’t you already know the answer to that? That dove is still out there, still investigating… it’s only a matter of time.”

It was easier to build strength when she wasn’t eating human food on a regular basis. Already, she could feel the difference in her own movements. She was getting faster, stronger. She could feel the control in each action. Back before Yoriko had been hospitalized, she’d gotten lazy, taking less and less training sessions and taking it easy whenever she could. Now, though, she was making up for lost time, and Yomo was more than willing to help.

“Don’t overdo it,” he said, “Use your kagune too much and you’ll start to wear yourself out, and get hungry.”

“Then I’ll eat more,” she snapped, not particularly angry at him but irritated at how the world was lurching at the moment. “I’ll go hunt, get my own food. I don’t need to take more than my share from Anteiku.”

“The doves…”

“Fuck,” she knocked her palm. “Yeah, I just thought of that. No need to kill more people and alert the doves. Whatever, I’ll think of something.”

She couldn’t afford to do anything halfway. Not now. Not ever.

Yoriko walked quietly, but Sumiko was almost soundless behind her. If she didn’t turn her head over her shoulder, Yoriko would have thought her sister had disappeared into the crowd. The silence was uncomfortable, so Yoriko broke it.

“Um, so…” she asked, “How is Hinami these days?”

“I don’t know,” Sumiko said, her eyes still fixed lazily away, “I think she’s kind of unhappy still.”

They walked a bit farther. In the corner of her eye Yoriko could see a security guard standing in front of one of the stores.

“That’s the third one since we started walking,” she said, because it was easier to talk about that than to think through whatever it was she really wanted to tell Sumiko at the moment. “There are a lot of guards and police these days.”

“Yeah. Because of the ghoul attack,” Sumiko said, “Everyone’s scared now.”

Yoriko frowned. “But what can normal police walking around do? I mean, I’d understand more doves, but police aren’t trained to take on ghouls.”

Sumiko furrowed her brow. “Doves? What do birds have to do with it?”

Yoriko almost stopped walking for a moment, her blood turning ice cold at her mistake. “Investigators. I meant ghoul investigators,” she said.

She watched Sumiko’s face closely. Sumiko was still looking away, her lips forming a thin, confused frown. “How could you mix them up?”

“It’s slang. I heard it… somewhere at school.”

She really hoped that “dove” wasn’t a ghoul-specific type of slang that Sumiko had read about in one of her books. Looking at Sumiko’s expression, she couldn’t tell one way or another. She should probably address it, address all of the suspicious behavior she’d shown recently, give some sort of explanation. Or maybe just reassurance. It wasn’t that she could tell her, but—

Or could she?

If Sumiko knew she was a ghoul, would she reject her? Or her mother, for that matter. Would they really call the CCG on their own family? Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe this secretiveness was unnecessary. Maybe she didn’t have to flounder around looking for lies to feed Sumiko. Or maybe it was unrealistic to think that way, after how she’d treated Touka at first.

For a moment, she could see it—a world where she told them and her mother hugged her and Sumiko shrugged and said it was no big deal. But then she saw the reverse—crying, rejection, having to go on the run, drawing suspicion toward Touka…

“Hey, Sumi,” she said, before she could stop herself.

She didn’t know what it was in her tone that did it, but Sumiko immediately looked up, eyes bright, listening.

“If I…” she paused, trailing off. Then she shook her head. “Never mind. It looks like we’re here.”

The door to Anteiku was a block away. Yoriko fixed her eyes there.

Touka had played a board game once before in her life. It had been during some afterschool event when Yoriko had invited her over to play. She supposed that it wasn’t too surprising that the second time she played it was because Yoriko invited her again.

“We should play with Hinami and Sumi during our break,” she said, “It’ll be fun!”

So here she was, stuck in jail before she could puzzle out the rules to this piece of shit game. What a way to spend her time after work. At least Hinami seemed to be having fun.

“Okay, you landed on my spot,” Hinami said, “I have two hotels there, so you have to pay me 20,000 yen.”

Yoriko whined a little before handing it over. “You know you brought this on yourself,” Touka said.

“Yeah,” Yoriko groaned. “Maybe next time we should pick a different game.”

Hinami giggled. “I can give you all loans if you want. But I’ll charge interest, so you’ll have to owe me ten extra dollars for every time you go around the board.”

“Forget it, you soulless money-grubber,” Touka groused, “I’ll be damned before I trust a single deal you offer.”

Hinami was shaking with laughter. Beside her, Sumiko focused intently, but not on the game. Instead, she’d gotten a blank piece of paper and was carefully tearing it up into tiny, even little pieces. Touka wanted to ask what the fuck that was about, but a few glances from Yoriko told her to ignore it.

“Hey, Yoriko,” Sumiko said, “Didn’t Mom ask you to pick up something from the pharmacy?”

“Huh?” Yoriko blinked, “Oh yeah… shoot, it’s going to close soon, huh? I better go do that now. Sorry, people, I guess I’ll have to quit.”

“Can I have your money?” Sumiko asked, stopping he paper-tearing activity.

“I think Touka needs it more.”

“But we’re siblings,” Sumiko argued, “That means I get your money when you die.”

Touka wrinkled her nose. “Well aren’t you a lovely sister,” she said, keeping her tone light, “Anyway, she can leave her money to whoever she chooses. That’s what wills are about.”

“Uh…” Yoriko looked between the two of them.

“Give it to me,” Touka said, jokingly, “I love you the most.”

Hinami giggled again. Sumiko blinked and it somehow managed to look like the most sarcastic blink Touka had ever seen.

Yoriko turned bright red. “You’re both unfair,” she said, standing up and throwing up her hands. “You two can split it equally, okay? I need to get going.”

She left, and Touka felt dumb and awkward. Not that she had said anything too embarassing. Or at least she didn’t think she had. Still, she found herself rubbing the back of her neck.

They shuffled through the fake money, Sumiko looking up for a second.

“What if we can’t divide it evenly?” she said, “Should we flip a coin or something?"

Touka looked at her. She didn’t think about the Monopoly money, though. Instead, she looked at Sumiko’s droopy eyes and realized that Yoriko had left her sister alone with them—alone with two ghouls. She hadn’t even hesitated. The thought made Touka pause a minute, looking at Sumiko with wide eyes. The little girl frowned, looking away the moment their eyes met. Touka shook her head, and then smiled.

“What?” Hinami asked, looking between the two of them, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Touka said, her voice a little bubbly, “I’ll tell you later.”

A little later, she went downstairs to continue working, a smile still pulling at her cheeks.

Yoriko didn’t rush back when she realized that Sumiko was alone at Anteiku. She trusted them, and didn’t think much of it except to wonder at how much she’d changed. Ghouls—the ones at Anteiku at least—had stopped being scary and started being people to her. She didn’t know when that had happened, but she didn’t mind—welcomed the change even, though it was a little dizzying. The entire world had flipped to her, but that part of it wasn’t bad.

She enjoyed the walk a little as she went back, slowing down to feel the breeze on her face and watch the air rustle the leaves. Everything seemed soft to her a moment, like the entire world had become a pastel painting. The sun gleamed brightly over the buildings, enveloping Anteiku in the distance with a golden halo. Everything looked, smelled and felt so nice today. Yoriko stopped a moment, and breathed.

Oh, she blinked. That’s what it was. She felt peaceful—even a little happy. She wasn’t grinning from ear to ear the way she used to when she’d gone anywhere but it was nice. A little warm inside. Everything else—Mom, Sumiko, doves, ghouls—that all seemed like something to worry about later.

It had been a while since she’d felt like that.

From across the street, she saw a flash of blue hair in the window. She smiled. Touka was turned away from her. She hurried her steps a little, ideas bubbling up in her chest. She would rush up, knock on the window, watch Touka turn around and scowl. And then maybe she wouldn’t scowl. Maybe she’d smile too.

The thought made her feel a little lighter. She didn’t even take the time to hit herself for being embarrassing and stupid. She took a step to cross the street, looking to the right a moment, and then—

White coat. White hair.

Yoriko stopped. On the same block as Anteiku, and walking right toward it, was a man. An investigator. The investigator.

Her stomach dropped. Suddenly, the pastel environment was sucked into a void. Her eyes fixed on him, and her knees trembled. Her mouth opened, like she could scream out and warn everyone.

Touka.

He had seen Touka that night. She hadn’t had her mask. She’d been there, fighting him without a mask. He’d see her if he went in. He’d see. He’d see.

No, no, no, no!

She flung herself into the street, barely missing a car as she ran. The plastic bag slipped from her fingers and onto the street. She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know what she could do. There was a car screeching, honking, but it was so far away. So, so far away, and the only thing that existed was Touka whose back was still turned so that Yoriko could barely make out a bit of her cheek, and the edge of her lip. Only Touka existed—along with the white haired man and the distance between him and Yoriko that seemed too long, too long!

“Wait!”

She snatched his arm right as he reached for the door, practically yanking him away. Relief flooded her, and then suddenly she realized she was looking right into his eyes.

One eyebrow up, one eye wide and the other narrowed. A crooked, cold grin that sent shivers down her spin.

“Oh?” he asked, “What exactly do you need?”

She’d faint. She knew she’d faint. She wanted to look past him, to see if maybe Touka had turned and was seeing what was going on. But no—that would just draw the man’s attention that way. So she looked right at him, shaking.

“I-,” she swallowed, whispering, “You… i-investigator? Help…”

He twitched, like he was about to turn. She grabbed his sleeve, pulling at it to get his attention. He didn’t seem to react, except to go along with her.

“Please…” she said, “There’s a… a man… he’s been following me. I can’t—I’m scared.”

“A man is following you, eh?” he asked.

She nodded, looking down. “Yes… this way!”

She pulled him farther away from Anteiku, keeping her eyes to the ground. If anything, she knew she didn’t have to try too hard to act. She was terrified.

“Very well,” he said, “I’m not a police officer, but I can call law-enforcement for you.”

“No!” she said, gripping his arm, “Just… I’m afraid of what he’ll do. He said if I… if I…”

She couldn’t think of what to say. She swallowed nervously. They were still moving. Still getting away from Anteiku. But there was no way he bought this. He knew. He knew. Oh god, he had to know. It would all be over. She should have joined in to kill him that night, like Touka said. She should have cut him open and eaten out his heart and—

She felt a shiver—Rize’s finger—trail down her spine. She gulped. But then, just as she thought everything was lost, she heard a sigh.

“He’s been harassing you for some time, huh?” the white haired man said, “Alright. I’ll help you home, if that’s what you want.”

She thought she’d cry with relief. Anteiku was already nearly a block away with the pace they’d been going. She wanted to look back, but didn’t. “Thank you,” she told him, choking up, “Thank you so much!”

“Which way to your home?”

“Th-this…” she stopped, suddenly realizing how bad it could be if he learned where she lived. “This way,” she said, turning right at a corner.

She couldn’t resist. She gave a glance over her shoulder, one last look at Anteiku. Then she turned, and it left her sight.

“Oh?” he said, “You’re fond of shortcuts, I see.”

She looked up at him, thought of him cutting into Touka’s skin, and felt a wave of disgust. She let arm slide away from his. “Thanks, sir,” she said. “It… it shouldn’t be far.”

She shouldn’t be so afraid, she decided. He didn’t have a suitcase with him so what could he do? Still, her heart wouldn’t stop hammering.

“So, will you tell me about this stalker of yours?” he asked, “How long has this been going on?”

She lied, taking deep breaths before saying anything. Her stalker had black hair and gray eyes—she thought he was a college student, but she wasn’t sure (because that was the most generic description she could think of). She knew that he was older than her. She’d been getting letters, creepy ones, ones that she didn’t want to mention the contents of (because she couldn’t think of them). Then, pictures of herself.  Then she’d seen him following her some days. The letters became violent and she got afraid.

(It was a movie she’d seen once, a long time ago.)

She didn’t know where she was going, but before she knew it, there was a forked path. One path led to a secluded area, she knew. A dark alley, far away from prying eyes. Not that there was anyone to see now, anyway.

He doesn’t have a suitcase, a voice whispered to her, velvety soft like Rize’s, How much do you think a human can fight without one?

Her neck stiffened. She’d really—no, Rize had really suggested killing him. Her stomach turned at the thought.

“Tell me something,” the man said, stopping and breaking her out of her thoughts, “Do you realize you’ve been going in circles the entire time? There’s no one around now. You can take a moment to get your bearings.”

“I—no, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, stopping a little ahead of him, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My head’s spinning. It’s so dark now too. I can hardly see.”

The last bit of light was vanishing over the top of the buildings. Night was coming.

“Really,” he said. “Do you know you have an interesting color of hair?”

She pulled back, suddenly sick. Was he… was he some sort of creep? Did he see this as an invitation, like her mother had always warned her men did? The thought made her want to vomit.

“A very interesting color,” he said, “It’s natural isn’t it? I can tell. I think I’d be able to recognize it, even at night or during the day. Face masks don’t cover hair, after all.”

She barely had time to register the last remark. The moment she did, she didn’t have any time to react. His coat flung open, and she only saw a flash of knives before they were there, digging into her, cutting into her side and her stomach and leg.

She cried out and spun, trying to run away but only managing to fall on her face. Then, something slammed into her ribs, kicking her farther and farther into the darkness. She tried to get up for a moment, only to feel something sear into her back. Her neck arched back, her head tossing back with it. She screamed, the noise tearing out from deep in her gut.

“My partner was right. You are weak—unpredictable amount of strength, so you rely on cunning and tears to get your prey.” She looked up to see him grinning, holding some sort of long knife, “Not that you can manage that quite as well as a human.”

 Whatever it was dug deeper into her back, twisting. She screamed again, flailing her arms.

“Did you really think I was taken in for a moment?” he laughed, voice raspy, “Did you really think I’d travel without a weapon? No, no. These nifty things fit quite nicely as secret weapons! I wouldn’t take on Rabbit with them, but you—ah, Yamaguchi.”

There were tears running down her eyes. She twisted her neck, and saw two more figures in the shadows, both carrying suitcases, one even carrying two.

Touka, she prayed silently, Touka help me…

But that was funny wasn’t it? Hadn’t she done this to keep Touka away from the investigator? Touka should stay safe, stay far away, even if the thought made her cry more.

“You called for back-up?”

The rest of their conversation faded into a blur as the thing twisted inside her again and pain lit up her vision. “Stop!” she gasped in between the burst of pain, “Please, please stop!”

“Hm, no kagune?” the man asked, “My partner said you were quite impressive the moment you brought it out. Then again, I suppose you’d have to be having trouble, what with the drugs on the edge of these knives. Not quite as impressive as RC suppressants, but enough to induce drowsiness and slow regeneration and kagune control.”

Everything faded out again. She sobbed, hands curling like she could grab something underneath her to steady the pain. “No more. No more, no more… please, I’m human.”

“See that?” the man said, “Rather crafty for a ghoul. It expects to be able to worm its way into our sympathy. Of course, we know better than that, don’t we men? We can see that kakugan it has on, after all.”

She heard the assistants murmur some kind of assent, and then he pain dug into her back again. Her scream this time was raspy. She closed her eyes, sobbing more, chest heaving, and suddnely she felt something pulled over her head.

“Hm, let’s see here,” the man cackled, shuffling through its contents. “Oh, look! A cellphone. Ghouls these days, I suppose.” He addressed the other men, “Take out your quniques. Be sure to watch her every move for me, and don’t let your guard down. If she moves at all, strike but don’t kill. Yet.”

She didn’t know how, but suddenly he was leaning close to her.

“Hey, Eyepatch,” he said, the grin audible in his voice, “How many ghouls will I find in your contacts’ list?”

Her eyes shot open. She saw a blur, and a toothy grin.

“Hm, let’s see here,” He was crouching next to her, eagerly poking through her phone, “Hmmm… what’s this? ‘Mother,’ it says. And ‘Baby Sister.’”

She couldn’t breathe.

“Who are mother and sister?” he asked, “Is Rabbit your sister? Well, one way or another, it has to be another filthy ghoul, huh? Should I call and ask?”

Her hand shot out, reaching to stop him. There was a flash, and it was cut off before her eyes. She wailed, crying long after it happened, staring in horror as the blood spurted from the stump.

“Thank you, Yamaguchi,” the white-haired man said, not even flinching at the blood that spewed all over him.

“No problem, Mado.”

Mado jabbed her, “Loud thing, aren’t you? All part of your little game I suppose—acting like you feel pain the way a human does.”

Her throat was raw. She gave an open-mouthed sob.

He waved the phone in front of her eyes. “You’re really afraid of me calling them? Why? Don’t you want them to come to your aid?”

“N-no!” she gasped, “They’re human—please… leave them out of this.”

She heard laughs from behind her. Of course. Humans and ghouls. A family. How ridiculous. How funny. She was crying.

“Will they come for you?” he mused, “How about we see? Which should I call first, ‘Mom’ or ‘Baby Sister’?”

“No,” she whimpered. “No, no…”

Suddenly, the phone was dialing. Shivers ran down her spine. Her fingers on her other hand twitched. If she could just use her kagune. If she could… why wasn’t it coming out?

“Hello there. This is the CCG,” Mado said to someone on the other line. “Do you happen to know who this is?”

No, she tried to whimper, only for an unintelligible rasp to come out.

He gave a gesture to the other men. Suddenly, the phone was held close to her face, and the thing dug into her back again. She grit her teeth for a moment. No use. She cried out again anyway, sobbing. The phone was pulled away.

“That’s the owner of this phone, one of your breed,” Mado said cheerfully. “We’re at one of the alleyways in the neighborhood, about Can you get here in the next ten minutes? No? Well, then I suppose I’ll have to skewer her and send you the head. What’s left of it. Maybe just her eyes.”

A pause.

“Oh? Where are you now?”

There was a long pause.

“Well, you can get here soon enough. Here, it’s…”

She phased out. Mado, the investigator, was giving directions. He was talking on the phone to… to… who? It didn’t matter. Whoever it was, it was all over. They would know. Worse, would the investigators even check to make sure they weren’t human before cutting them down?”

“Keep talking as you’re walking. If you’re not here in time, I kill her. If you go quiet for even a second, I’ll assume you’re getting help and kill her. If you say a code—and I will know if it’s a code—to try and subtly get help, I’ll kill her.”

“Don’t come,” Yoriko rasped, then shouted, “Stay away! Leave me—please! Don’t come! Don’t—ah!”

Something else cut into her.

“Pfft,” Mado spat, “Thank you, Ichiro.”

“No problem, Mado.”

“It’s disgusting when they pretend to have human feelings.”

Her lungs were heaving, and her mouth was dry, but she found a voice anyway. “Pretend?” she asked, voice breaking, “You think I’m pretending? You think ghouls don’t feel anything? Then what are you doing now? What are you doing, then? How can you act like we don’t have feelings when you’re using them against us?!”

She ended in another shriek. It echoed through the empty alleyway. They said nothing for a moment. Then, Mado crouched closer, pulling her head back by her sweaty hair.

“How philosophical of you!” he said, cheerily and with a note of malice underneath, “You make a good point, but you’ll find my counter-argument rather convincing. You see—”

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, there was a knife in her jaw, cutting right through her face.

Touka, save me.

Touka knocked on the door, “Hinami? Sumiko?”

She opened it. Hinami was sitting there, frowning at the board. Piled up one the opposite side was a lump of torn paper, bit that Sumiko had piled methodically before.

“Is Yoriko back yet?” Hinami asked.

“No,” Touka said, “I guess she got sidetracked. Where’s Sumiko?”

“I don’t know. She left for a bit,” Hinami sighed dejectedly, “She said she wouldn’t play anymore. I think she was mad at me.”

“Well yeah, you’re too damn good,” Touka said, “You’re a regular scumbag. You’ll go far in life.”

Hinami laughed. “Wait. I think she’s outside.” She went to the window. “Yeah, there she is!”

Touka looked down. There, right down from the window, Sumiko was on the phone, her face turned away so they couldn’t see her expression. She fidgeted a moment, and then ran.

“What the…?” Touka asked, “That’s not the direction of her house or anything…”

“Maybe Yoriko called her?”

“Maybe,” Touka frowned, “Pssh. Damn brat, wandering off. I’m going to go check on her.”

She was down and out in a moment. She felt her spine prickle uneasily. Something was weird. Yoriko should be back already, for one thing. It was already dark.

She caught up to the little human girl quickly, but didn’t reveal herself. Sumiko was out of breath, panting, gasping out words rapidly.

“One… two… seven… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say. I can’t think of anything else. I don’t… I don’t know what to say. I’m running out of words. Please don’t do anything. Thirty-eight…forty two… A, B, C, D… E…”

Touka frowned. “Sumi…?”

But she didn’t say it loud enough. The little girl still ran. She didn’t seem to hear anything. She turned a corner.

Touka lost her a minute. Then, in the distance, she heard a shriek and a familiar clatter of sounds. Fighting. Struggling. Metal—no, quinque clashing against something.

Her eyes flared, and she leapt forward.

Everything was blurry. Everything was pain. But that was fine. The pain was fine. She was doing that for Touka. But no, it wasn’t okay. Someone was coming. That was bad. Bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

“Eat,” Rize said, whispering in her ear, “Just take one bite, and you’ll fight off those silly drugs. Or do you want to lose someone today?”

Rize grasped her jaw. It hurt, and she whined. “Try to focus all your energy here. Heal. Then bite. Look, they think you’ve fainted. They won’t suspect a thing. Keep your eyes closed. Listen. Smell. Feel. You’ll know when they’re close enough.”

There were tiny footsteps in the distance.

“Wait a bit. Wait…”

Everything was alive for a moment. Her ears, her nostrils, every nerve in her body, every ache of her wounds—it burned.

Rize shouted, “Now!”

Yoriko bit.

Touka lunged into the alley, kagune sprouting behind her. It only took her second for her to realize she was too late.

Blood everywhere. A swirl of chaos. Investigators flailing their weapons. And towards the end, three, bright red spider-like tentacles flailing as investigators beat down on them. And at the center of it all, a bloodied, zombie-like body with several limbs cut off, its teeth latched onto an investigator’s flesh like a bulldog.

It was the perfect distraction for her to sweep in and skewer the old bastard from the air. He wheezed. She supposed she’d cut through his lung. Good. She flung sharp edges of her wing at the other two, but she didn’t get to see how deeply she cut them.

“Fall back!” One of them said, “Fall back!”

She heard them run, one of them barely managing to detach from Yoriko’s teeth. Touka sprinted after them. She would have beheaded them in a minute, but her foot caught on something. Something small, limp, fleshy…

Oh. Oh no…

Blood pooled from Sumiko’s head, seeping to the edge of Touka’s shoe. Touka froze, her jaw tightening. Behind her, she heard a crack, following by ripping.

Yoriko was eating.

Chapter Text

Touka had heard that Rize ate like an animal, using every limb of her kagune to tear apart her victim alive while shoving bits of flesh down her throat. Touka had never been partial to the use of human silverware herself; like most ghouls she found it made the eating process too slow and frustrating. Still, ghouls who had seen Rize eat had shuddered and spat about her being animalistic, cruel, and disturbing. She’d come across some of Rize’s leftovers herself once, and she couldn’t disagree, but she’d never really felt the pure loathing she’d heard in those ghouls’ voices when they’d said Rize’s name.

At least, not until now.

Yoriko’s kagune moved like red lightning. The body was like putty in her hands, bits flying up like confetti. The body’s hand glinted for a moment. Touka recognized it. A ring, a wedding ring, right on the investigator’s finger. It was covered in blood in a moment, Touka frozen there.

It’s not that she had a problem with the filthy old investigator being eaten, but…

“Yoriko,” she said, “That’s enough.”

Yoriko must not have heard. Touka shook herself and stepped over there.

“We don’t have time for this Yoriko!” she shouted, grabbing Yoriko’s shoulder to pull her away, “There were two others, and…”

Yoriko’s neck snapped back at her. There was blood all over her face, and a haze in her eyes. Touka barely had time to defend herself as Yoriko lunged at her. Touka threw her to the other side of the alley. Yoriko crumpled, trying to stand a moment only to collapse on a legless stump. She hissed, rolling around. Touka put her hands on her knees, watching for a moment.

And then, Yoriko turned, inhaling some scent. Sumiko was laying right behind her, the pooling of her blood finally slowing down. Touka shot forward immediately as she realized what was happening.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Yoriko!”

She wasn’t there quite in time. Before anything else could happen, Sumiko’s tiny, limp shoulder was in Yoriko’s jaw, and Touka heard a sickening crunch. Touka kicked, slamming Yoriko against the wall. Then, she punched Yoriko in the face. And again. And again.

Yoriko’s kagune swirled a moment as though to attack, then it lowered. Touka pulled her fist back, and looked into Yoriko’s eyes. She could see her ukaku reflected in them: rippling and shining in the darkness. Underneath all the blood, Yoriko’s face sagged, her one remaining hand and the stump of her arm reaching up for Touka’s shoulders.

“Touka…?”

Touka sighed, letting her go. Yoriko’s head rolled forward, the fingers on her remaining hand gripping Touka’s shoulder.

“What’s…?” she whispered, “Where…?”

The question genuinely terrified Touka, because she had no idea what the fuck to say. “No time for that,” Touka said.

Her head throbbed, thoughts passing in a blur: Investigators. Yoriko’s face. No mask. Need to kill them.  Sumiko bleeding out. Need an ambulance. Need to bandage wound. Need to clean up. Need to get Yoriko out of here. Fuck fuck fuck.

Yoriko tried to take a step up. She stumbled, and looked down, her eyes widening at her missing leg. She let go of Touka to reach down for it, closing her eyes, hopefully remembering whatever the hell had happened.

“Oh no,” Yoriko squeaked. Her expression turned painful, and her eyes opened. She clawed at her face with her remaining hand. “They saw my face.”

“I need a phone,” Touka said. “Quick, quick, where’s…? Oh.”

She had her own phone in her pocket. She’d forgotten in the rush. She turned away, pulling out her phone and dialing while making for the human girl lying on the ground. She didn’t have any time to waste. She knew Yoriko’s eyes were following her as she did, because when Touka crouched down she could hear Yoriko cry. She’d just realized who was on the ground.

“S-Sumi,” Yoriko whimpered.

Touka placed one hand on Sumiko’s throat, right underneath her jaw. She heard her phone dial in her other hand, eventually picking up.

“Touka?” Koma asked on the other line.

“It’s an emergency,” Touka said quickly. “We need you over here. Now. Yoriko’s face was seen, and her sister’s injured. I need you to get Sumi to a hospital or something.”

She could feel a faint pulse under her fingers, Sumiko’s life flickering like a tiny candle flame. The little girl was still alive. Hopefully, she would stay that way.

“I’ll take care of the investigators.”

Touka gave the location, and hung up before Koma could disagree, she removed her hand from Sumi’s throat and ripped off her jacket, pressing it against the bleeding wound on her face. She didn’t know anything about first aid for humans, but she had a vague idea that losing too much blood would be bad. She turned to Yoriko, her blood still pumping.

“Come on,” she said, “You’re not leaving anything here?”

“…purse,” she said, “And… phone.”

Touka found them almost immediately, throwing them on Yoriko. “Carry these. We’re leaving now, and we’re going after the investigators.”

She dragged Yoriko up. Yoriko whimpered.

“We need to get you out of here, and I need to go after those men before they get back-up,” Touka told her firmly.

“But…”

“It’s been too long already!” she shouted, not even waiting to hear what Yoriko’s objections were, “If we wait any longer, they’ll get away, and they’ll bring people back here to get you. This time I’m making sure we got our bases covered. They won’t make it back to the CCG.”

She wondered if Yoriko understood her through her confused haze.

“Wait,” Yoriko rasped as Touka dragged her out, “But… Sumi--!”

Touka heard a crackle. Yoriko’s arm reached out, and Touka could see the bits of bone rebuilding themselves slowly, flesh knitting around them.

They rushed, but ultimately it wasn’t too hard to find the other investigators before they got help, not with Touka’s speed. Touka could smell them, hear their panicked rush as they got closer. They were inexperienced, weak: this was possibly their first time hunting ghouls. They’d been brought out as assistants to the more experienced old bastard. She wondered if they even had fought ghouls before.

She stopped wondering. Instead, she tucked Yoriko into a nearby alleyway, practically shoving her. Yoriko whimpered.

“Stay,” Touka said, “I’ll be back.”

Touka killed the first one easily, sweeping in from the top of the buildings in the alleyways that caged them in. The next one was a bit harder. He screamed, flailing his quinque furiously at her and she had to dodge a bit. She saw her opening though, and took it. His head flew off, bouncing against the wall.

She turned to see Yoriko, or more accurately, her kagune, which shed off just enough light for Touka to make out Yoriko’s outline as she leaned against the wall. It was too dark to see Yoriko’s face, but Touka’s stomach dropped. Yoriko had finally seen her kill. She stepped closer.

“I told you to stay.”

Yoriko’s eyes were horrified, but hazy. She had the expression of someone convinced that they were having a bad dream, that none of this could be real.

“They won’t identify you now,” Touka said, “Come on. We’re taking the back way to Anteiku.”

Yoriko was too slow. She stumbled too much. Touka grabbed her awkwardly around the shoulder, and then hissed in frustration as Yoriko started to slip out of her grip. She grabbed her around the waist instead, her heart slamming, her fingers digging in.

Touka could hear blood rushing in her ears, could feel her heart still slamming in her chest. Her stomach roiled with all those nasty chemicals of anger and indignance. But then, they settled coolly.

You can’t judge me. You were just about to eat your own family. We’re the same, now.

Touka’s fingers dug harder into Yoriko’s side, pulling her close enough for Touka to press her head against Yoriko’s shoulder. Like that, they stumbled back to Anteiku.

“You need to tell us what happened.”

Yoshimura was being as gentle as he could, Touka knew. Yoriko wouldn’t look at him though. She was shaking, her arms clutching her sides. Her lips moved a moment, only for her to bite down on them and sob.

“Wh-what did I do?”

Touka stayed where she was, leaning against the wall. “Nothing wrong,” she said.

“Sumiko…?”

“Her injuries weren’t the worst. She should survive.”

Touka wasn’t actually sure of that. She’d only gotten a quick look at the human girl, and there were a million ways she could have been internally fucked up beyond repair, if the little she knew about human anatomy was correct.

“I left her,” Yoriko’s eyes were so wide that Touka could see white above and below her irises. “I left her there.”

She started sobbing, not holding back anymore.

“That was my decision,” Touka said. But she said it under her breath. Saying it aloud, reminding Yoriko that Touka herself was the one to decide to leave her little sister bleeding out in an alley—that prospect was frightening. She clenched her fist.

“Just tell us what happened, Yoriko,” she said, louder, her voice becoming rough and growly. That wasn’t what she wanted. That wasn’t what she wanted at all, but… she couldn’t stop herself. She was still feeling that adrenaline rush, that pulse that made her ready to tear off heads and rip out hearts. She tried to soften her voice. “The sooner we know, the sooner we can fix everything.”

It still took Yoriko too long, but she sobbed and gasped for air, and then she started talking.

“That man—they called him Mado—he was about to go to Anteiku…”

Touka listened. Her insides shriveled more with each word. Her stomach sank and the moment she realized exactly why Yoriko had done it all, she opened her mouth. The words she had to say caught in her throat. Yoriko looked at her briefly only to flick her eyes away, like she was ashamed.

Touka’s throat was still dry. “I…” she said, “I need to…”

She didn’t finish her excuse before running out. She ran up the stairs, pulling her bandages tighter to stop them from dripping, her head pounding, dizzy from her own failures. The pain was there, pulsing through her forehead and it wasn’t just the adrenaline, it was everything: it was the old bastard, the spurts of blood, the flesh flying in the air, the head bouncing off the wall, the screams, Yoriko’s tendons crackling to reassemble themselves, Sumiko lying limply in a pool of blood, the ring gleaming in the blood…

All of this, because she’d gone after Mrs. Fueguchi’s killer.

It didn’t really matter if a murderer like her died. She’d fucked things up enough with her dumb crusade, after all.

But Yoriko had thrown herself into the lion’s path for the sake of… that. For the sake of a murderer.

Touka made it to the mirror, panting. She looked at it, and before she even knew what she was doing her fist was right through it, and the glass had shattered into a million pieces.

“My hand,” she whispered.

She kept running her fingers over it. It was there: whole and unscarred, like it had never been cut.

“Rize’s regeneration abilities were likely the best a ghoul ever had naturally,” the manager was saying, “As long as you supply your body with a steady stream of RC cells, there’s little that you won’t be able to recover from, and you’ll be able to do it a lot faster than a lot of other ghouls.”

She kept feeling it. She looked down, her leg was still skeletal, but there was muscle growing around it, crawling.

The room spun, and she threw up.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sick I’m sick imsicksicksicksicksicksick

She didn’t know who she was apologizing to. There were too many people. The manager was gone, but then he was back with a towel, cleaning everything up and coaxing her upstairs.

“Rest a bit,” he said. “Koma will give us news soon. You need to sleep.”

He was practically holding her up, she realized. Then, he gently laid her down on a bed, and turned to leave.

“Can I talk to Touka?” she asked.

Pathetically, that’s all she wanted. She just wanted Touka. She wanted her to be near, to hold her hand or maybe hug her, to talk to her, to hear her voice. She just wanted her presence, so she could bathe in that comfort that she got simply from being around her.

“I’ll tell her to come over,” Yoshimura said.

The door closed softly, and her eyes slid shut. Only a buzz in her pocket woke her. Her phone. Shakily, she pulled it up, swiping at the screen.

She saw her mother flashing on the screen, and dropped it.

She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Koma came in panting.

“Good news!” he said, “Yori’s little sis is at a human hospital.”

Touka nodded, “She’s still alive?”

“I think so,” he said, “She was when I dropped her off. Now, bad news.”

Touka braced herself, and she felt Irimi and Yoshimura do so as well, in their own ways.

“The CCG is everywhere,” he said, “Luckily I, the Devil Ape, had the skills needed to avoid them without being seen. But it looks like things might be… tight, from now on.”

Touka lowered her head. “I’m… this is all my fault.”

No one said anything. That had to mean it was because they all agreed.

“What you said before about… revenge. I didn’t believe you then,” she said, facing the floor but knowing the manager would understand who she was talking to. “But oh boy, I believe you now.”

She waited for him—or anyone—to berate her. Instead, she felt a heavy hand on her back. She flinched.

“It’s alright,” the manager said.

“It’s really not,” she laughed bitterly. “You know it’s not.”

“Kiddo, we’ve all been there,” Irimi sighed, “If I could say that I never fucked up as badly as you did, I would. But to be honest, I’ve done worse.”

Everyone was silent. She didn’t dare look at all of them, but she felt the weight of her stares. She had to do something, had to say something to make things right.

“I won’t let this happen again,” she said, “This is the last clue the CCG ever gets to us.”

Yoriko woke up at five am to find Touka asleep by her bedside. Touka seemed to wake in sync with her, rolling her head to meet her eyes.

“Hey,” Touka said, “Your sister got to a hospital.”

Yoriko felt her eyes well up. They were dry and burning.

“You need to come downstairs,” Touka said, “We were talking last night… it’s okay you stayed the night, but we need to find out what to tell your mom.”

Yoriko froze.

“Come on,” Touka’s voice was soft, “Let’s go downstairs.”

Touka got up, rubbing her neck and stretching. Yoriko rolled out of bed and stood up, and shiver running down her legs. Her missing leg was back, right on time.

She washed, showered, changed, and soon she was in familiar back room of Anteiku, the manager, Koma and Irimi swirling around her immediately. She had to read all the texts her mother had sent, general messages asking why she hadn’t gotten home yet that got steadily more worried by the hour. Then, the Anteiku staff gave her a story, revised it to make sure all the details fit together, and made her repeat it back to them, rehearsing the words until she didn’t stutter over them.

“You have to be able to say this confidently enough to fool your mother,” the manager said, “We don’t have any other choice. Are you ready to do that?”

“Yes.”

They rehearsed her longer anyway, feeding her bits of meat scraps they had. Yoriko didn’t even give any thought to what she was eating, swallowing it down eagerly. Then, they sent her on her way, Touka following after her.

Outside, the sun was too bright. Yoriko blinked at it, dazed, unsure if this was really the route to her home she’d gotten so used to. Nothing was different, but it felt unfamiliar. Strange, too bright, like someone had thrown everything out a replaced it to look as much like the old place as possible.

It was the way everything had looked after she had killed her first time.

“Touka,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, come on.”

She didn’t know when Touka started to hold her hand, but it was nice and Yoriko gripped her like she would fall to the void if she let go. Perhaps she would. Her legs were unsteady and everything around her was unreal, transparent.

“I’m…” she said, not finishing the sentence. There was too much to say, and no way to start. “I’m,” she started again only for her voice to crack.

Should she start with how grateful she was that Touka had saved her, or she address the face that she’d tried to cannibalize her own sister? Should she talk about how terrifying it was to see Touka fight, or should she apologize for attacking her? Yoriko felt like apologizing for not helping, leaving Touka to kill the investigators on her own. It felt like a betrayal, and it sat in her stomach uneasily song with everything else. But then, wasn’t that the right thing? Killing was wrong after all.

“I’m sorry,” Yoriko said finally.

“Why?” Touka said, “None of it was your fault.”

Touka’s jaw was hard, and her eyebrows knit together.

“But…”

“Nothing is your fault,” Touka said, cutting her off. “It was the situation. Okay? You did your best.”

Touka must have been trying to make her feel better. That was nice of her. Touka was really nice like that, even though she wasn’t. “I’m so weak,” Yoriko said.

“You’re not,” Touka said, “You have guts. You… I can’t say if you did the best thing back there. But it’s easy to think of better ways to solve things in hindsight. The important thing is you stopped the bastard from getting to Anteiku. You… saved me.”

Touka’s voice was soft, a little cracked. Yoriko looked up to see her face, tenderness and anguish pulling it in different directions.

“You might have saved us all with that,” Touka said, “You did what you had to. And the rest… they’re the ones that injured you. They’re the ones that put you in a situation where you needed RC cells like crazy. Blame them.”

“Okay,” Yoriko said, though she didn’t quite believe that.

They made it to Yoriko’s house. Yoriko thought about going up to Sumiko’s room and knocking on the door, maybe asking her a few things about insects so she could let Sumiko talk for a while. That wasn’t something Yoriko did often, was it? Just ask her sister questions and let Sumi talk about the things that she wanted to talk about. She should do that. She should listen more.

But Sumiko was at the hospital. Of course. How strange of her to forget, just like that.

Yoriko’s eyes welled up.

“Will you be okay?” Touka asked gently.

“Mm-hm,” Yoriko squeaked out.

Touka looked at her a long time, her forehead creased. They’re hands were still together, Touka gripping hers tightly. Yoriko’s fingers felt numb underneath it, lifeless. Touka finally let go, looking away.

“I’ll call,” Touka said, “Text me if you need anything.”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be okay.”

Yoriko nodded. Touka nodded back, her eyes still on the floor. She turned to leave.

“See you,” she said.

Yoriko’s heart suddenly dropped. She didn’t want Touka to leave. She hadn’t said enough, yet. She had to say everything, had to tell her how much she needed her there, how much she appreciated her. She needed Touka’s hand in hers and their bodies close enough for Yoriko to feel warm again. She’d collapse if she was alone: she couldn’t take it. Her head was already spinning.

She wanted to say don’t leave.

Instead she said, “I love you…”

It sounded like a question, like a request, like she really was asking not to be left alone, even if those weren’t the words she were using.

But it must have been too soft, because Touka didn’t even stop to look back at her as she said it.

She didn’t find her mother in the living room, or in the kitchen. She knew this was her mother’s off-day, so she realized that must mean that she was sleeping. Yoriko could have peeked into her room to make sure, but she didn’t. She sent a quick, “I’m home” text and made for the kitchen, opening up different cupboards and closing them.

Yoriko chewed her lip. Finally, she pulled out the coffee. Her hands moved on their own, her heartbeat steadying as she filled the espresso maker with water and set the stove to a high boil. She started to breathe easily as it whistled. She’d taken out two mugs and poured coffee in them when she turned around. Her mother was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, dark rings around her eyes, and a slight smile on her face.

“Good morning,” she said.

“I…” Yoriko gulped. “I lost my phone. I didn’t mean to stay out all night. I got… sick. I was throwing up, and I… I didn’t feel up to walking home. I would have called. But I lost my phone.”

Her mother didn’t say anything, didn’t even nod. She kept looking at Yoriko, still smiling.

“I’m sorry,” Yoriko said. She felt her heartbeat speed up again.

Don’t mention her. Don’t mention her. With your story, there’s no way you know what happened to her…

“Why didn’t you have your sister call me?”

“She went home before I started getting sick,” Yoriko said.

Her mother’s smile dropped, her eyebrows raising. “So where is your sister?”

Yoriko gulped. “She’s not here?”

She’d rehearsed this with Irimi. She knew what to say. Pretend she didn’t know. Her mother would already know something was up. She might already have been contacted by the hospital…

Her mother smiled again, stepping forward. Yoriko stepped back, looking down.

“Yori, sweetie…” her mother said, “Do you really think a mother can’t tell when her daughter is lying?”

Yoriko’s lungs had stopped working. She squeaked.

“What happened last night?” her mother asked, voice lowering.

“I got sick and lost my phone,” Yoriko said, unable to bring her volume higher than a whisper, “I have it now because I found it on the street. Sumiko went home early. She should be here.”

“Have I been a bad mother?” her mother’s voice asked gently, “Is there something I did that made you think you couldn’t trust me?”

Her mother eyed the two cups of coffee. Yoriko had retreated to behind the kitchen table, putting it between them. She watched as her mother took a cup, swirling it a little. Maybe she was looking at her reflection.

“Because you know Yoriko...” the pitch rose like a violin string that had been jerked tight, “I hate being lied to!”

The cup of coffee whirled passed Yoriko’s face, crashing against the wall behind her. Yoriko’s knees buckled, her hands raising to shield her face. She barely remained standing. Her mother suddenly loomed over her, but Yoriko didn’t look up.

“What really happened last night?” her mother demanded, “I know you know—don’t bother lying again! Why did you let your sister go out alone like that?!”

Yoriko looked up a moment. That was a mistake. Her mother’s eyes were wild.

“Imagine my surprise when they pull me out of my work at the hospital because my own daughter was brought in,” she said shakily, “Can you do that? Can you realize what it’s like to see that? Can you imagine what it felt like to call you, again and again, only for you not to answer? And then, for you to come in and act like this, like there’s something to hide. You’ll kill me like this. Do you understand?”

She was being shaken.

“Do you understand me?!”

She wasn’t being shaken anymore. Her mother stopped, still gripping her.

“Please just tell me,” her mother sobbed, “When did you stop trusting me?”

Her mother was crying messily. Yoriko tried to look her in the eyes.

“Su—Sumiko was…,” Yoriko started, choking. “I’m—”

She was really about to tell her mother everything right then, but instead she started hiccupping. There were tears running down her cheeks. She started to sob, gasping for air in between. Suddenly she was being scooted to a chair, her mother shushing her gently.

“It’s okay,” her mother said, “Shhh, it’s okay.”

She kept that up, holding Yoriko and stroking her hair until Yoriko felt she could breathe a little easier. Then, she let Yoriko go and went to lean against the counter, massaging her temples. Yoriko looked up at her, vision blurry.

“I’m sorry,” her mother said, her voice far away, “That was wrong of me. That… I wasn’t thinking. I overreacted. Of course you don’t want to talk about it to me.”

Her mother laughed a little sadly.

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” she said, “Are you okay, dear?”

Yoriko nodded mechanically.

“Okay, good. Let me clean this mess up.”

Her mother made to clean up the coffee that had splattered against the wall. Yoriko stumbled out of the room as quietly and she could, waked upstairs, and flopped on her bed.

They had shaved off Sumiko’s hair, and bandaged her face so that it could have been any girl lying there. Her eyes were still closed, breathing mask over her face and wires in her arms.

Concussion. Major damage to the left cheekbone from a blow that narrowly missed the eye. Concussion. Blood loss. Several bones broken around the shoulder area, along with possible nerve damage there. In addition, Sumiko seemed to be in a temporary coma.

Yoriko wanted to throw up while the doctor talked.

“What are her chances?” her mother asked.

“I’ve seen kids recover from worse,” the doctor said, “None of the damage should be fatal: the blood loss is the worst of it. If she survives the next few hours, she should be able to pull through.”

Yoriko waited in the hospital. Her mother stayed with her, refusing to go back to work. The doctor came when her mother had gone to the bathroom. Not Sumiko’s doctor. The other doctor.

She’d forgotten his name.

“Ah, Ms. Kosaka,” he said, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here. How have you been adjusting?”

She blinked. “My sister was injured.”

He looked surprised, “That is unfortunate. May I ask what happened?”

She shook her head. “I can’t… I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“That’s understandable,” he said gently, “Do you know what room she’s in? Which doctor is handling her case? I might be able to get you more information.”

Yoriko didn’t need more information, but she rattled off what she knew anyway.

“Alright then. I’ll see to it that she gets the best treatment. If need be, I’ll take over her case myself.”

Yoriko looked at him, and something inside her curled up in revulsion. Suddenly she thought of how impossible it must be to cut open a ghoul—even a crushed ghoul—and remove organs. How impractical. How odd it was for a doctor to risk his career on an unauthorized organ transplant. How odd it was for such a procedure—adding organs from another species to a human—to work. Especially with human surgical instruments, which couldn’t even pierce a ghoul’s flesh. Especially when the doctor supposedly didn’t even know it was a ghoul he was cutting open. Especially when it was all a coincidence.

Fake, fake, fake.

She looked into his eyes, wondering what she saw there.

“If you took over her case,” Yoriko asked, voice cold and harsh, “How exactly would that end for her?”

He smiled at her, and for a terrifying moment it was as though they were sharing a secret. “I merely keep people alive. Given the gift of life, it’s up to the patient to decide how things end.”

“I see, Dr. …?”

“Kanou. It’s Dr. Kanou. Best of luck, Ms. Kosaka. We’ll meet again later.”

And that was the end of their conversation. Yoriko hunched over, looking at the ground.

Her thoughts were too messy, too mixed with adrenaline fueled paranoia to parse. She didn’t know how much she’d just imagined of that, or how much she had… realized.

She closed her eyes.

Her mother was back when the CCG came. Yoriko hardly heard anything at that point. She hadn’t slept in forever and everyone’s words were hard to keep track of.

“We’re transferring Sumiko Kosaka to our hospital,” one of them said, “We’ve discovered that she’s relevant to an investigation.”

Nightmare. It has to be a nightmare.

“You two are required to come with us.”

“No,” Yoriko squeaked.

Her mother objected loudly, saying something about the risk of moving her in this state. Yoriko barely heard. She just watched. And then, she saw him in the corner of her eye: first a flash of a cast around his leg, and then she recognized the investigator with the heavy eyebrows and the face of Superman.

They know. I’m going to die.

“I don’t feel well,” she said, “I need to go home.”

No one gave her any mind. No one but him, and all he did was look at her sharply. She shriveled back.

She was being pushed ahead, led like a lifeless doll into some vehicle. They took her out at a building, the CCG headquarters.

“No,” she whimpered, “I feel sick. I want to go home.”

“It’s necessary you co-operate for now. Lack of compliance will be considered a criminal offense.”

She gulped. Her mother said something. She didn’t pick up any of the conversation until they were in the building, and then her mother said something about disliking metal detectors and they were saying—

“These aren’t metal detectors. These are RC scanners. Basically, they only go off if you’re a ghoul, so you don’t need to…”

She bolted, limbs spiking with panic. She didn’t react fast enough. Someone grabbed her and whirled her back, shoving her through the device.

Nothing happened. Yoriko felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach and she cried out but nothing happened. Well, one thing: She heard a loud slap.

“How dare you treat my daughter like that?!” her mother screamed, “I’ll have you prosecuted. This is Japan—we’re a civilized country so you better behave like it!”

Yoriko stumbled forward. Her eyes wandered everywhere, first to her mother, then to the investigators, and then finally to the man with his leg in the cast.

She made it out of the building, and then she fainted.